


Lost Echoes

by trashcans_anonymous98 (lindigo)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Determination, Echotale, F/M, Kinda, Romance, like I said you can choose not to see it that way, seriously there are going to be tons of au references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:32:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 75,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5814301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindigo/pseuds/trashcans_anonymous98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loosely based on yoralim's Echotale au.</p><p>A malfunction in the Core causes everybody to mysteriously disappear. Everybody except for Sans, the elusive W.D. Gaster, Flowey and Frisk. Together, they begrudgingly join forces to find a way to reverse the bizarre effects of the accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sans strode purposefully through the lab, his black combat boots thudding down the tiled hallway. The secret laboratory was swamped in darkness, save for the odd flickering light, but he navigated through its depths with ease, sidestepping shrouded obstacles without a cursory glance. Even so, Sans was at edge. Normally, he wouldn’t be caught anywhere near the cursed hellhole. Too much bitterness. Too many tears. But that day, there was a reason to be there. A reason he couldn’t ignore, no matter how much he wanted to.

Finally, Sans arrived at his destination: a rectangular cell encased in glass, illuminated by a meagre red light, with an unfortunately familiar occupant. Her clothes were torn and ripped, hair frayed and stringy, limbs as thin as he had seen and her skin was a sickly pallid colour. Her body was seemingly only kept upright by the shackles and chains that hung from the ceiling, causing her to look not unlike a suspended doll.

If he didn’t know who she currently was, he might’ve felt sorry for her.

She looked up as he stopped directly outside her jail, red eyes shooting upwards to meet his. A smirk hardened her usually soft features and, suddenly, it was as if nothing had changed.

“Well, look who finally showed up,” Chara rasped. “What took you so long?”  
Sans feigned indifference, shrugging, as he replied.

“Traffic.”

“Har dee har,” Chara said sarcastically as she made a face at him. “You took your damn time, you idiotic comedian. It took a lot of work to keep this vessel alive for this long, y’know.”

“Awww, poor baby,” Sans mocked. “Nothing to torture, nothing to destroy. I bet it was killing you, keeping you cooped up in here.”

“Not as much as it was to her,”she smiled an awful smile. “You know I wasn’t the only one suffering. Determination can only do so much, Sans.”  
She paused to feign thoughtfulness then leered at him, snarling “Or did you forget that in your stupid excuse of a rescue mission? What happened to SAVING people?”  
Sans slammed his hands against the glass, his sole eye flaring to life.

“Don’t you dare say that to me,” Sans whispered, his voice interlaced with muted fury. Chara grinned down at him, unflinching.

“What’s this? Restraint? Haven’t seen that for a while,” she said as her smile widened. “Must be the influence of _him_.” she muttered, grinning. “What? Did you think I wouldn’t mention it?  
She giggled at Sans’ stony expression.”You’re not just Sans anymore, are you? No, you’ve got some of that blasted scientist in you now-”

“Shut. _Up_.”

“...What _are_ you?” It wasn’t what she’d said. Just the way she’d said it. Joyous, barely holding back giggles, positively gleeful as she stared at him with a look that could only be reserved for the most disgusting of creatures.

“I’ve killed you enough times for you to know the answer to that question,” Sans allowed himself a smirk as he watched Chara’s grin quickly be replaced by a hateful scowl. A small triumph but a triumph nonetheless. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”

“Me? I’m flattered. What do you want to know, dear?” Sans internally grinned as he noted the way Chara didn’t bother to point out the sudden shift in topic. Obviously, she didn’t want to remember her failures any more than he did.

“Your new look. I like it. It’s fitting.”

“What?” Confusion flitted over Chara’s features momentarily.

“Desperate. It looks good on you.” Sans took pleasure in the momentary look of shock that came over Chara. It was gone as quickly as it came but both of them knew it only confirmed what he had assumed.

“Desperate? Me?” she spluttered, attempting to keep some dignity about her after her shameful display of emotion. “I think you’ve got your perspectives twisted. You need ME! That’s the reason you came down here. I have power! I have Frisk! Why should I be desperate?”

“Because your host isn’t indestructible,” Sans revelled in the silence he reduced her to. “You’ve been down here for quite a while haven’t you? Alone. I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d come just a few weeks later. There’d be no trace of you then, would there?” he drew closer so that she could see the faint whisper of a golden flame in his sole eye. “You have Frisk. She can give you power but she can also weaken you. Frisk is still human. Frisk can still die. And that means, so can you. And you will unless you help me.”

Chara stared at him in shock for a second before she broke out into a fit of giggles that wracked her body painfully.

“You planned this!” she managed between laughs. “Sans! You’ve changed!” she exclaimed gleefully.

“What can I say? Time has changed me,” Sans watched, expression unreadable, as her laughter eventually quietened. “So? What will it be?”

“You don’t have to convince me, you piece of trash. I WANT you to fix this mess,”she smirked, condescension dripping from her words. “After all….

 

 

“...one can’t destroy when there’s nothing left.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

Sans focused on the keypad next to the jail cell, distractedly typing in the correct code as his Gaster Blasters began to obliterate the chains that held her up. Now that he had dealt with the issue of Chara’s cooperation, the next hardship loomed over him. He had to get Frisk away from the deadening effects of her cell and the lab as soon as possible and begin on the process of her hopefully quick recovery. The glass door slid to the side with a soft whoosh, a gust of cold air escaping as it did. Just as Sans began to turn towards the cell and away from the keypad, the Blasters finished their job, the last of the chain links snapping in the force of their beam, and promptly dropped Frisk onto the floor. Sans rushed to her side, two of his blasters helping by propping up her limp figure.

“Hey! Kid! Frisk, are you okay?” he hurriedly asked, carefully scanning her face for any signs of consciousness. For a few heart pounding moments, she didn’t move. But then her eyes fluttered open and he breathed a sigh of relief, genuinely smiling as she tried to sit herself up.

“...Sans?” She was obviously confused with his new appearance, her hands reaching out to touch his face and clothes.

“Yeah. It’s me. Long time no see, huh kid?” he murmured, gently pushing her hands away. She said nothing but gave a small smile instead. “I’m sorry I took so long. I came as soon as I could.”  
Sans paused to pull her up to her feet, determined to leave as soon as possible. “Can you stand? We really need to get outta here. I’ll lead the way so-”

“Wait! Sans, I…” Sans swivelled around to see Frisk, barely standing, her legs trembling dangerously like a newborn deer. She gave a weak laugh as her legs gave way, plopping back down on the floor. “I’m sorry. My legs...I don’t think I can…”  
Internally, Sans reprimanded himself. Being suspended in the air for weeks on end, of course she wouldn’t be able to walk! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“It’s okay, kid. We’ll...uh…d’you think you could crawl up on my back?” Sans turned and knelt down in front of her, continuing when he saw her puzzlement. “Piggybacks. Just like when you were little.”  
Grinning, she complied, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Giving a small grunt, he set off, desperately trying not to think of how thin and weak Frisk had been reduced to.

However, no matter how much he wanted to ignore it, his thoughts kept coming back to the state of his friend. When she had been possessed by Chara, it had been easy to ignore the spindly limbs, the sunken in cheekbones in lieu of focusing on the abomination herself. But now, when she was Frisk, beautiful, kind, strong Frisk, whenever he looked at her it felt like his heart was being squeezed tight. He did what he had to do. It was the only way to make Chara cooperate; to magnify that weakness she had inside of her: humanity. But still, to see what he had willingly done to her, it was awful. The steady breathing next to his ear, while comforting, was also condemning. How far could he have gone? How much damage could he have done?

As Frisk’s breathing slowed into the rhythm that signalled her falling asleep, Sans swore to himself that he wouldn’t ever hurt Frisk again.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Frisk shut the book with a sigh. She had tried reading it, really she had, but quantum physics was hard enough to learn without trying to guess words in between endless notes scrawled on every possible space. Not to mention the jokes…they had just made her exasperated, even more so when they managed to coax out a smile or-god forbid-a legitimate giggle. She let it fall to the ground as she slowly sat up. Boredom was a thing she never knew she could experience in Sans’ and Papyrus’ house, but it was happening and she was sick of it. 

 

It had been a week since Sans had carried her there, at least according to him. For the first few days, she had been barely coherent, slipping in and out of dizzy spells and perpetually exhausted. Confusion, fatigue and… something else had clouded her mind so much that during that period of time that she hardly noticed the unnatural silence around them. At some point, when she’d finally regained the ability to think, the silence became more than noticeable. 

 

Unbearable was more like it.

 

The silence began to take on its own sound, a low ringing that progressed into what sounded just a little like laughter. Discomforting was to put it lightly. But when she’d talked to Sans about it, all he’d done was give her a strange look and whisper that she should get some sleep. 

 

Sans. Frisk sighed as she absently picked at the fraying fabric of the worn green couch. He’d significantly changed in more ways than one from the last time she’d seen him which could’ve been a week or two, at most.  He was taller, leaner, his eyes were just that much deader and his voice had a new reverberating flatness that made her shiver, just a little. Not to mention his current fashion sense. Also since when did he smoke? All of this in addition to his sudden detachment from her was...unsettling. He was almost never at home and, when he was, Frisk’s numerous attempts at striking up a conversation were nearly always shut down immediately.

 

If she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve thought that he was… upset.

 

Frisk narrowed her eyes as she mulled over the notion. The Sans she knew had been basically unfazeable but, then again, he wasn’t just Sans anymore, was he? There was something different about him. She’d tried to ask him about the reason behind his new appearance during the rare time he was at home, but he just muttered about “an old friend” helping to mix up his style and that was the end of that. Frisk had obviously wanted more information than that frustratingly vague reply but she’d been friends with Sans for years now. She could tell when he really didn’t want to talk about something and so she’d decided to drop the subject. For now at least. 

 

Frisk shook herself out her reverie as she picked up the quantum physics/joke book from the floor and smoothed out the creases on the bent pages. What good was fluffing about like this? She wasn’t going to let this one go. She wanted answers and she wanted them now. Or, maybe, in a few hours. Or in a day or two. After all, she didn’t know when Sans would return from whatever he was doing out there in the Underground and she didn’t want to bother him unnecessarily. But she did know that he had answers. And she would get them from him even if she had to persuade them out from him, one word at a time. When all was said and done, determination  _ was _ one of her strong points. Frisk paused, thoughtfully humming to herself quietly. 

 

Maybe she’d ask him for something to eat other than hot dogs as well. 

* * *

When Sans finally returned, Frisk was very annoyed. She had spent at least an hour sat in front of the television, trying to gain a reaction out of it by randomly twisting the knobs. Before then, Sans had told her that the connection had been cut off and it wouldn’t work but that day, when she had been noncommittally pressing buttons on their remote, she had seen a flash of colour that suggested otherwise. She had found a manual, somehow, by digging through the set of drawers the TV was sat upon, but soon discovered that they were useless as they were written in a chicken scratch font which was nigh unreadable. However, Papyrus must’ve deemed them as great writing paper as she noticed that he had written down spaghetti recipes on the back of them. They were a pleasant surprise and Frisk had spent quite a while smiling to herself as she read through their contents, giggling at the frequent mentions in the recipe that yes, excessive smoke was a good sign. Housefires? Even better! 

 

At some point, however, she had decided to continue with her arduous quest to somehow get the TV working again. Now she sat, cross-legged, exasperated and comically ruffled with the pages of a manual strewn around her. She was so focused on the matter at hand that she didn’t notice Sans’ presence before he spoke.

 

“Hey.”

 

Frisk spun around to meet him, taking in his appearance as she did. He was wearing his normal attire - a black jacket with a fur lining, a grey turtleneck, dark trousers and combat boots-and was leaning against the door frame, one hand stuffed into a pocket and the other holding a smoking cigarette . Besides the thin layering of snow on his clothes, he essentially looked the same as when he left the house in the morning.

 

“Heya,” she said, watching as he shook off the snow and made his way to the couch. “Was it snowing outside?”

 

“Yeah, just a bit,” he muttered, exhaling softly as he relaxed. Glancing at her, he asked, “How’re you feelin’?”

 

“Better,” she smiled as she shuffled the pages of the manual into a makeshift pile. 

She chose not to tell him about how weak her limbs still felt and the exhaustion that still came to her in bouts. She was sure he had enough on his plate. There was a short but awkward silence between them as Frisk tidied up her mess as best as she could but a loud cough from Sans brought her attention back to him. 

 

“Your...uh...shackles,” he murmured as he gestured with his cigarette towards her wrists. “I have tools. That could get them off pretty quick.”

 

“Oh, right,” Frisk held them up, the strips of chains dangling from the manacles on both her wrists. She had barely noticed them before which was odd. It wasn’t as if they weren’t rather conspicuous. Any average person would want the cumbersome weight removed immediately but, for some inexplicable reason, she felt as if she wanted to keep them. “I...no that’s okay. I..I want to keep them.”

 

“What? Why?” 

Frisk stared at the chains for a moment.

 

“Aesthetic,” she answered flatly.

 

Sans cracked a rare smile, scoffing half-heartedly. 

 

“Really?”

 

“What? It’s obviously better than yours,” Frisk replied, enjoying their exchange which was the closest semblance to a legitimate conversation in a while.

 

“You judgin’ my fashion sense, kiddo?”

 

“Well, it’s definitely...different.”

 

Sans made a burn sound effect, sucking air through his teeth. 

 

“Ooooh,  _ ‘different’ _ . ‘Different’ is never good.”

 

“Oh c’mon! It’s not like it’s not true. It is different. You’re different,” Frisk’s smile fell as she looked down at the floor. “Lots of things are different....” She paused then looked up expectantly, her eyes piercing into Sans’ and her lips set in a firm line. 

“...aren’t they?”

 

As the seconds ticked by, the silence between them grew more and more tense. Strangely, Sans was the one to break it, chuckling softly.

 

“Yeah,” he muttered as he got up from the couch and strode to where Frisk stood. It was then that she realised that Sans was taller than her, if only just by a little. “Lots of things have changed. But you haven’t, have you?” He paused to absently snuff out his cigar. 

“You’re still as blunt as ever.”

 

Frisk blinked once, twice and giggled.

 

“Sorry, Sans. I’ll have to work hard to get as  _ sharp _ as you.”

 

“Nice one, kiddo,” Sans grinned. “But ya bring up a good point. Everything has changed and it’s about time ya get informed.”

He gestured at the couch.

“Sit down, kid. This is gonna take a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I had a bit of trouble with planning and pacing the story. Thank you for all your comments and feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for much infodumping. This has been a PSA.

Sans whistled a random tune as he smiled to himself. Grillby’s was having a slow day. The low murmur of numerous conversations resounded in the restaurant; the jukebox playing a rather bouncy melody in the background. He exhaled slowly. This was the place to be.

 

Suddenly, a loud cry pierced through the restaurant. Sans and every other patron spun around to look at the source of the cry, a monster that was...disintegrating? Alarm bells rang through his mind as his eyes darted around the room, barely acknowledging that the effect was spreading. What was happening? It seemed to affect every monster, there wasn’t any sort of discriminating factor that separated them from each other so that meant-

 

_ Papyrus. _

 

Sans bolted out of the restaurant, leaving behind the shrieks of horror and into a fray of panic, hardly noting that he too was beginning to disappear. Everywhere he looked he saw monsters dematerializing, eyes wide in terror and  _ screaming.  _ Why was this happening? This wasn’t supposed to happen! They had done it  _ right _ this time! Sans sprinted through Snowdin, panting from the effort but desperate to find Papyrus. As he halted just for a second to catch his breath, a monster child with half of its torso and face missing stumbled towards Sans, sobbing in short breaths. He took in its appearance with wide eyes then reached out a hand, trying to comfort the poor kid when he heard Papyrus’ voice calling out in the distance.

 

“BROTHER? WHERE ARE YOU?” he heard and the crack in his brother’s voice made his heart split open. He immediately whirled around, frantically searching for the source of the sound. Just as he was about to run, the child caught onto the hem of his hoodie, halting him, just for a second. And, just for that second, he stared down at their desperate, terrified face and they looked up at him, eyes pleading and spilling over with tears. And, just for that awful second, he thought to himself, ‘ _how_ **_annoying_** _._ ’ But then that second was over and he was struggling to keep himself there because he had to leave, he _had_ to!

 

“I’m sorry,” Sans managed to croak out. “I can’t help you anymore!”

 

It took all of his willpower to wrench his hoodie from the monster’s grasp and just  _ run. _

\--

Sans skidded around the corner of the path, snow flying everywhere as he looked everywhere for his brother. The telltale flash of red in the snow made his eyes snap towards it and he was flooded with relief as he saw that Papyrus was still there. And then that relief transformed into horror as he saw that Papyrus was losing a hand and then an arm and then a shoulder and then he made himself look at his brother’s face and nowhere else. 

“Papyrus!” he shouted as he raced towards Papyrus because there was still time, he could still help him. In response, his brother swivelled around and the last shred of hope that he had shrivelled away as he took in the ever growing hole in Papyrus’ skull and the gaping absence of anything in his body. But what truly pushed him over the edge was his expression, tearful and afraid and oh god if he ever found what truly made this happen, he would tear them limb from limb for making this nightmare a reality.

“SANS?” Papyrus’ voice teetered on the brink of tears and it made Sans feel like he was breaking but he couldn’t. His brother reached out a hand, a trembling hand that was disappearing far too quickly. “SANS,PLEASE-!”

“ _ No! _ ” he screamed, hand outstretched as he tried to move faster, faster,  _ faster _ because maybe if he could just touch him he could do something, he knew he could, he could fix this, he would SAVE him. And it seemed like time was moving painstakingly slow as he witnessed Papyrus’ body become consumed by nothing and the voice in his head whispered to him that he would never make it in time. But he ignored it and he pushed himself to his limits because he couldn’t let it happen. Not him! Oh, god, please, _ NEVER _ him!

 

But he was too late. 

 

He was  _ always _ too late.

 

Sans felt himself shatter as his hand closed around thin air. He was gone. Tears of anger, despair and just plain confusion fell from his eyes as he collapsed into the snow. He was  _ gone. _

 

It wasn’t _ fair _ . It just  _ wasn’t. _ Sans’ insides were in turmoil, twisting and turning as he gritted his teeth and just let himself scream into the snow. What had he done wrong? What had any of them done to deserve this? Brimming with rage, fury, grief, all he could see was white. Just for once in his life, he had wanted to do it right and he had. But it still hadn’t counted at all. He had done everything he could but nothing mattered, NOTHING! Even with all of his power, he couldn’t save one measly monster. 

 

He wanted to die.

 

But then, a burning chill seeped into his body, overcoming the white-hot rage inside, suppressing, dousing, suffocating the flames that threatened to spill out. Eyes wide, he whirled around to come face to face with  _ him. _ His hand grasped at Sans’ skull, pulling him closer, forcing him to look straight into the broken eyes of his former mentor. 

“What are you-” Sans began then stopped, stone cold, as he felt  _ his _ bitter touch begin to bleed into him. “No! Wait! You can’t-Stop, please!”

Sans began to babble, fearful but unable to look away, scrambling for an escape. Just as his exhausted mind began to become overwrought with terror, it was forcefully erased, leaving him alone with one intruding, foreign thought.

“sAvE uS.”

 

\--

 

Sans jolted awake, eyes wide and breathing hard. He sighed, subconsciously rubbing the forked split in his skull, as he got up from his mattress. He’d given the couch to the kid because...well...he was sure she needed the comfort more than he did. After a moment, Sans left his room and began to make his way downstairs. He had trouble sleeping in the first place; the added weight of that nightmare would keep him awake for a while. Absently, he took out a cigarette from the packet inside of his jacket pocket and lit it, breathing in the smoke slowly as he attempted to calm himself down. Smoking cigars was...a new way of doing it but they did the job well. 

 

When he caught sight of Frisk, he froze. She was standing in the corner of the living room, turned away from him and towards the window, wrapped up in a spare blanket with a mug of hot tea in her hands. Judging by her relaxedness and wistful expression, she obviously hadn’t noticed his presence. He did miss the times back when she still enjoyed being in his company and wasn’t always so...withdrawn, but he guessed her reaction to his new look was as justifiable as any other.

 

Still, that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

 

For a second, he considered teleporting next to her, just to see her jump, just to see her look of surprise melt into a reluctant grin and a half-hearted reprimand. But then he remembered the expression she had on her face when they parted ways last night and he thought better of it.

 

“Hey there, stranger. Fancy seein’ you here at this ungodly hour,” he said casually, making sure to purposely step on the creaky step so that he wouldn’t startle her. Frisk turned round with a small smile that made her eyes crinkle and his smirk faltered at the sight of the prominent bags underneath her eyes.

 

“What are you doing up so early?”he attempted nonchalance as he leaned on the couch. “I know how much you value your sleep.”

 

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied with a tiny laugh. “I know you value yours even more.”

 

“Ah well, you know, when those late night hotdog cravings hit, you can’t ignore ‘em.”

Frisk snickered then the two of them eased into a lull in conversation as Sans blew clouds of smoke into the room, watching with half lidded eyes as they disappeared with a soft sprinkling of magic.

 

“How’re you feelin’?” he said finally. 

 

“Tired,” she muttered after a moment of hesitation, smiling.

 

“The couch’s right there, kid. You’ve got a blanket n’ everything.”

Even as she pulled the blanket tighter around her, she shook her head.

 

“It’s not that. I just…” she trailed off, opting to continue staring out the window.

 

“You can’t see much of the effect from here,” he murmured after a short silence. “I’ll take you out to see them, I promise. But only if you get at least a few hours of sleep.” 

At the mention of sleep, Frisk’s momentarily hopeful expression fell and she groaned.

 

“Why can’t we go now?”

 

“You humans are less resilient than monsters. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that you’re barely keeping yourself awake, kid.”

 

In response, Frisk pouted, bringing a smile to Sans’ face.

“Get some ‘z’s, kid. I promise everything will still be here when you wake up.”

\--

Frisk stifled a yawn as she trudged after Sans through the snow. As much as she would hate to admit to him, he had been right. She was completely and utterly exhausted. Staying up all night had not been the best decision. However, it wasn’t as if Sans hadn’t given her enough to mull over. She thought back to the previous night where he had sat her down and explained that something strange had happened. The core had malfunctioned and everybody had mysteriously just disappeared.

 

“Did they...Was it…?” she had whispered in hushed tones, not daring to voice the fear that she held inside.

 

“They’re not dead,” he said definitively. “If they had, there’d be some sort of sign.”

 

“W-what sort of sign?”

 

“Dust. Lots of dust,” he muttered. “They’re  _ not _ dead.” he’d added again, though it’d seemed as if he was reaffirming it to himself. They both knew that they didn’t have any idea if that was true, but it was a sliver of a chance and Frisk was holding onto it for dear life.

 

“But, if everybody had disappeared, how did you manage to stay?” she’d enquired, wanting to get as far away from that subject as quick as possible.

 

“A friend helped me out. Anchored me down,” he said automatically. “But anyway, it seems as though the malfunction ignores people who have the ability to control time. Because, well, you’re still here and so is-”

 

“Asriel?” she'd interrupted hopefully.

 

“Yeah,” Sans had answered as Frisk, embarrassed at her outburst, sat back down and began to fiddle with her chains. “Flo-Asriel is still here.”

 

“Do you know where he is?” she’d asked, wishing to see her friend soon.

 

“No. I’ve seen hints of him here and there but it seems like he’s avoiding us for now.”

 

Sans had quickly steered them back to other matters, telling her about how the collapse of the core seemingly triggered some deformations in the underground and that investigating them had been the reason he'd been away for so long for so much time. Things ranging from pipes growing through the ground in Snowdin, snow falling in Hotland and forcing lava and ice to erupt from the ground in timely bursts. It had been a lot to take in and, when Sans left her with a rather awkward pat on the back, she’d stayed up for hours to just process what she’d been told. But now that she’d gotten a grasp, however shaky, on the situation she could begin to help fix it. She knew that Sans was already working on something.

 

Sans always knew what to do. 

 

So she begrudgingly went to bed. The morning had come far too quickly and, when they eventually left the house, she’d still been groggily rubbing sleep from her eyes.

 

She should’ve been rejuvenated, excited to see the side effects in person and, in the back of her mind, she was. But there was also the more pressing matter that she was freezing her fingers off.  _ ‘Had Snowdin always been this cold? _ ’ she thought to herself as she attempted to rub some feeling back into her arms. Sans had mentioned that the weather had gone haywire ever since the incident but she didn’t think it would’ve been  _ this _ extreme. Occupied in her thoughts, Frisk didn’t notice Sans halt before her and slammed right into him, tripping over a protruding object with a clang.

 

“Hey kid, you alright?” Sans didn’t bother to hide his grin as he offered her a hand to get up off the ground. Frisk would’ve made a witty retort - she knew she would’ve - if she hadn’t been gaping at the long pipe that snaked across the ground. Sans had been right; they did just come out of nowhere. She’d been prepared but it’d still come as a shock to her; seeing such a foreign feature in the snowy lands of Snowdin was more of wake up call than the freezing winds that chilled her to the bone.

 

“You gotta watch where you’re goin’, kid.” he said as he hauled her up to her feet. As he noticed the tremble in her limbs, he frowned. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” she replied with a laugh. “Just a little cold. Oh, no, you don’t have to... _ Saaaaans. _ ”

 

“What?” he said as he held out his fur jacket expectantly. “You’re shivering.”

 

“I _know_ but if I take your jacket, won’t you be cold?”

 

“Thanks for asking, kid, but the way I am right now I don’t get cold,” he stated, shoving his jacket into Frisk’s hands.

 

“Then why do you wear it?” she asked even as she slid her arms into the sleeves that were still warm from his body heat. Sans shrugged as he started off down the path again.

 

“Aesthetic,” he called back and she could  _ hear _ the smirk in his voice.

 

With a grudging smile on her face and the fur of the jacket tickling her skin, she ran after her friend’s receding figure, making sure to playfully punch him in the shoulder as she passed. 

\--

It took them hours to walk through the underground, Sans grumbling for the entire time that the process could be so much easier if she just let him teleport and her replying that he  _ couldn’t _ , he knew that teleportation made her sick and they’d been over this already, you dang bonehead. Once Sans eventually resigned himself to the terrible fate of having to use normal means of transportation, he made the journey fun, commentating with injections of his dry humour as they trudged all over the Underground. He watched as Frisk frolicked in the puddles of water that were made from the snow in Hotland that melted instantly upon contact, laughed at her shock when she accidentally fell into a lake of lava in waterfall and found that it was cold and pummeled her with snowballs with a giant grin on his face when she instigated a snowball fight. And all the while, Frisk’s smile grew wider and wider as she began to see more and more of her long lost friend in her companion. 

 

But as they traversed the depths of the underground, Frisk noticed something new that Sans had failed to mention to her last night. Everywhere they went, echo flowers that hadn’t been there before were growing. Springing up behind buildings in Snowdin, perched on rocks and tangling in the air vents in Hotland and even thriving in the small bodies of lava and ice water in Waterfall. As they made their way back to their home in Snowdin through the passageways of Waterfall, after Frisk saw the fifth instance of a new echo flower, she decided to bring it up with Sans who hadn’t said a word on it before.

 

“Were there always echo flowers around her?” she enquired, even though she felt as if she already knew the answer. To her surprise, Sans chuckled.

 

“Took you long enough to ask,” he smirked at her. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d gone blind. But anyway,” he started before she could get a defiant word in. “No, there weren’t,” Sans answered and halted some distance in front of her, gesturing for her to join him. “Ever since the core collapsed, echo flowers have been popping up everywhere. This is one of the most condensed areas for their appearances.”

 

As they both rounded the corner of the path, Frisk gaped at the enormous field of echo flowers that sat before her. Hundreds of shining flowers sprouted from the ground, illuminated by the faint glow of the petals and the surrounding company of fireflies. They seemed to go on forever....like an ocean, she thought to herself, but made of beautiful fluorescent petals. Marvelling at the strangely serene sight that seemed out of place at best in their current chaotic environment, Frisk crouched down to take a closer look at one of the nearer flowers, a natural smile lighting up her face.

 

“What do they say?” she breathed, not bothering to hide the awe in her tone.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“You don’t know?” Frisk tore her attention away from the echo flowers and back towards her friend.

 

“Yeah. They’ve been steadfastly silent to me,” he said with a hint of frustration in his voice. “But I’ve tried talking to them and they haven’t replied so they do have a message. I just can’t hear it.”

  
“Oh,” Frisk murmured. “Can I try?”

 

In response, Sans gave her an unreadable expression.

 

“Go for it, kid,” he conceded as he crossed his arms and took a step back.

 

Frisk returned her gaze towards the flower she was sat in front of. They both knew that things in the underground worked a little differently for her. At some point she had been curious as to why and maybe she still was but she had learned to take everything down there in stride. 

 

So maybe, just maybe, being different would work out in her favour.

 

Tentatively, she gently brushed one of the nearest flowers with the back of her hand. 

 

For a few seconds, nothing happened and Frisk was already turning to give Sans a shrug and an apologetic smile. But then her breath caught in her throat and she wasn’t in a field anymore. No, she was back at the rocky area just in front of the entrance to Waterfall with one solitary echo flower sitting expectantly and no anomaly-caused ice or lava or, more importantly, Sans in sight. Thoroughly disturbed, Frisk got to her feet and then promptly squeaked as a foreign voice made her start.

 

“ _Well, lookit who made it through Snowdin. What took you so long, sweetheart?_ ”

 

Whirling around, Frisk came face to face with Sans. But not her Sans. This one had a chillingly red eye, a gleaming gold tooth, viciously pointed teeth and, strangely, a thin layer of dust covering his clothes.

 

_ “I’ve been waiting.”  _

  
His voice tore through her mind, pinning her on the spot and sending a violent tremble through her body. But then she realised that he seemed to be looking right through her and she swivelled round to see herself, albeit a lot younger and more battered, with a very familiar flower bearing a vehemently exhausted expression perched on their shoulder. Her younger self merely sighed resignedly and placed a comforting hand on the flower’s head as the sound of a Gaster Blaster roaring to life behind her echoed through the cavern and everything went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! I know the wait has been long and I apologise. I'll try on getting a schedule up for this but it's doubtful. Also for all that are confused by the ending, search up Underfell. You will not regret it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the wait. Its been a long time, I know, but lots of things came up so I couldn't work on this for a while. But to make up for it, this chapter's extra long! 
> 
> Thank you to all who have stuck around! You are all awesome!

“Alternate universes?”

 

“Yeah. From what you’ve told me, that’s what it sounds like,” Sans said as he halfheartedly tugged at an echo flower nearby. No response. No vision. He tried not to be disappointed and sorely failed.

 

“Is that possible?” Frisk propped herself up on her elbows as she glanced round at the flowers surrounding them. Sans was glad to see that the tremble that had wracked her body only a few minutes ago had left her. 

 

“Scientifically? Yeah, there’s quite a huge likelihood that they exist,” he answered, making sure to pick his words carefully.  “In our world, time has always been able to...contort. Who's to say that isn’t the same for the matter of space?”

 

“Well, if these are from alternate universes, what’re they doing here? Are they...side effects? From the core’s malfunction?”

 

“Probably. If so, we can also assume that these changes to the Underground’s landscape were caused by the clash in alternate universes.”

 

“Clash?”

 

“These echo flowers came from alternative universes but they’re here instead. We can assume that the core malfunction caused some chunks of their universe to fly off and merge with ours and vice versa. It would explain the appearances of these random afflictions in accordance with the weather and geography down here,” Sans said as he tapped his skull thoughtfully. “What?,” he asked when he caught sight of Frisk’s awed expression.

 

“You came up with that all on your own? That’s amazing!” she exclaimed with astonishment, her eyes glittering. Sans turned away as heat rose in his bony cheeks, trying to hide his embarrassment at her praise.

 

“S’just basic knowledge of dimensional physics n’ stuff...guesswork mainly...not that great,” he muttered as he fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “Besides, it’s just a theory.”

 

“If you say so, “ Frisk gave him a teasing smirk and he scowled. Since when did she get so good at getting under his skin? 

 

 

“Okay then. If we go with your ‘theory’ that these are from alternate universes, why am I the only one who can hear or, rather, see what they say?” she leaned forward, her gaze pinning him on the spot.

 

“Frisk, you said that you saw yourself in that vision the echo flower gave you, didn’t you?” Sans began to speak, injecting nonchalance in his voice as if he was casually explaining a basic formula to a child. “Well, in alternative universes, there exist constants. Terms that cannot be erased or changed dramatically. These constants allow alternate universes to...well, be alternate but still keep the same essence that ties them in with others.”

 

“To put it simply, you’re a constant,” he said as he chanced a smile. “In all of these universes, you stay the way you are right now.”

 

_ Not all of them,’  _ his subconscious hissed to him.  _ ‘You dirty liar. _

 

“But  _ why _ am I a constant?”

 

“You’re a catalyst, kid. You bring change. You’re special,” Sans took the opportunity to appreciate the blush that bloomed on her cheeks. Internally, he congratulated himself.

 

_ More than one person can play at the flattery game. _

 

“R-right,” she stuttered as she stared at the ground, her ears turning red from embarrassment. “Special.”

 

After a short silence, punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, Frisk spoke again.

 

“You know, it doesn’t really make me feel that special.”

 

Sans’ eyes broadened, imitating the movement of someone raising their eyebrow, but said nothing. He watched as Frisk’s hands balled into fists on her knees and resisted the urge to take them into his own.

 

“That flower…” she began. “The message it wanted to show me....that universe, I don’t like it. Even just being there for a few seconds was horrible; everything was dark and merciless. And it was so  _ real _ ,” she wrapped her hands around her body as a new tremble ran through it. “It really felt like you...no, not you but...

 

.... _ there was so much dust _ .”

 

Frisk reached out to take on his hands in hers, resting her palm on his. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the quiver in her grasp and gripped it tighter. 

 

“I’d never hurt you, Frisk,” Somehow, Sans managed to force the words out past the sudden tightness in his chest. “Never.”

 

Frisk stared at him in surprise for a moment before her face broke into a small smile.

 

“Yeah. I know.”

 

Sans ducked his head, feigning shyness but truly trying to hide his unnerved expression.

 

_ No, you don’t. _

 

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Frisk withdrew her hand from his and stood up, a slight tinge of red on her cheeks that he knew wasn’t caused by the cold. 

 

“We should probably head back now,” she said just a little too cheerfully. “It’s getting late, isn’t it?”

 

Sans stood up, dusting his jacket free from snow, and looked once more at the blue flowers that glowed in the ever-growing darkness.

 

“Yeah,” he said finally. “Let’s go home.”

\--

_ The formerly-unresponsive echo flowers have finally divulged their message. They hold excerpts from alternate universes that can only be accessed by Frisk through a series of visions at this point. This is probably because she remains as a solely unaffected constant in the expanse of the multiverses. From this, we can confirm our hypothesis that she is a quintessential factor in renewing our world.  _

 

_ Under  _ **_NO_ ** _ circumstances must you leave Frisk down in the secret laboratory. _

 

_ As we only were able to observe the excerpt from one flower, we are unable to know if there is a common factor in these alternate universes that caused the appearance of the copious amounts of echo flowers and that explains their new visual properties. Nor are we able to know if the ‘bad’ timelines are included in this anomaly.  _

 

_ Just in case, I will keep Frisk from Judgement Hall.  _

 

**_She does not need to know._ **

**_\--_ **

Sans paused for a second before he underlined the last sentence a few times, just for emphasis. He could never be too careful. He could never honestly know how different his hypothetical future self could be.

 

He knew how vindictive he could truly be.

 

Sans popped the cap back on his pen and took a moment to observe the new entry in his dog eared notebook. The paper was thin and worn against his rough touch, the stiff pages unwillingly separating as he slid a finger down through the gaps and split the sticky oily stains his former self had left behind. For a second, he hesitated, his fingers lifting up the corner of the page ever so slightly, then he thought better and busied himself by smoothing out the creases in the page. He had no reason to read over them; his former self had long memorised the former entries, just as a safety measure, and the memory of frantically flipping through the pages a few weeks ago to find any sign, any clue as to what had happened was still fresh in his mind. It would take a while before he could go back to read them and, even with his practical methodical side positively screaming at him to, he knew that he needed to let the wounds heal over once more before ripping them open again. 

 

In any case, he still had a matter he had yet to address.

 

Sans’ grip on his notebook tightened as he caught sight of foreign handwriting that was definitely his. How Gaster had managed to write an entry of his own when before the core accident, he had barely been able to move without incident was anybody’s guess.

 

Unless...he’d been able to function as normal from the very beginning but chose not to. He wouldn’t put it past Gaster to have had an endgame in sight from the moment the first core explosion had destroyed his corporeal body.

 

After all, deceit and Gaster went hand in hand.

 

The last time Sans had seen his former mentor hadn’t been any different from the others. Gaster’d been drifting, a mass of void with a cracked mask and a hollow touch. Nothing new that would explain a newfound ability to foresee the future as his entry entailed.

 

Sans tensed as he thought back to that day. A rush of snow, the chilling sight of dust floating in the breeze and the flicker of red in those warm chocolate eyes that had sent a chill down his spine. In that second, terror had swept over him, clouding his thoughts like a swift fog as his mind raced for a reason _ why _ . And at the very back of his consciousness, the whisper of incredulity at the message was swallowed by the fear. But now that the last remnants of fear were beginning to disintegrate, the incredulity was turning into bewilderment. Since when did Gaster have this ability?

 

But then again, as a glitch, what was Gaster truly capable of? The way he understood it, after the explosion that had deformed the former royal scientist into what he was now, Gaster was shoved into a suspension between life and death. After his attempts to communicate had been met with silence and Gaster’s touch had sent shivers through his body that he hadn’t been able to shake off for days, Sans had assumed that Gaster had been stripped down to a shell of his former self that could only exist and do nothing else.

 

He should’ve known better.

 

Sans sighed and shut his notebook firmly. He needed some fresh air.

 

With a huff, Sans picked himself up from the carpet of his room and made his way to the door, putting the notebook inside the drawers and glancing quickly at the mess peeking out from behind it. When Gaster had...changed him, Sans had quickly realised that there some side effects that came with his former mentor’s seemingly limitless intellect. He had also apparently inherited Gaster’s need for a tidy environment. However, it had not unfortunately cured him of his inherent laziness and so he had made do by stuffing all his junk behind the set of drawers. It had worked well enough until Sans realised the tiresome predicament it put him in whenever he misplaced something. He’d considered legitimately sorting out the tornado of trash but then he remembered that that would require energy.

 

As he shrugged on his fur jacket, Sans drew out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, watching as the smoke curled into wisps that disappeared with a wave of his hand. He’d have to talk to Frisk about making a detour the next time they went out to get some; he was running low.

 

Speaking of which, Sans needed to find Frisk. He wanted to talk to her. 

 

Distracted, Sans didn’t notice his friend at first when he opened his door. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of Frisk standing directly in front of him, stunned and with her hand poised to knock. He blinked at her in surprise - once, twice - then gave a relaxed smirk.

 

“Well, whaddaya know, kid? You’re just the person I wanted. C’mon, get in here. Let’s talk,” he said as he ushered her into his room. But then a thought occurred. “Oh, wait, did you want something?”

 

After a moment, she gave a small smile and shook her head. Sans gave her a sceptical look but turned away, choosing to not pursue the subject. Discovering what she wanted would be a matter for another time. Instead, he pulled open the lower compartment of his set of drawers and began to rummage through the junk.

 

“So this is your room, huh? It’s...different to what I imagined.” Frisk awkwardly stood in the middle of the room and looked around in interest.

 

“Do you frequently imagine the inside of my room?” Sans chuckled at the hot flush of red that immediately spread over her cheeks.

 

“What? No!” she retorted, indignant as her mind raced for a way to change the subject. “I just...I thought it’d be a lot...messier?”

 

“Used to be. I just stuffed everything behind these drawers. Can’t stand lookin’ at it,” he gestured to the pile of junk peeking out from behind the dresser.

 

“Since when have you been touchy about mess?”

 

“Since a while ago,” he replied shortly, his patience beginning to tire.

 

“And I guess I thought it’d be a lot more lived in. There’s barely anything here.”

 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t used to spend much time here. Here. This is for you,” he said as he handed a small bound notebook that fit snugly in his hand to Frisk and gestured for her to sit down on the carpet.

 

“A notebook?”

 

“Yeah, it’s a present. And this one doesn’t explode,” Sans couldn’t help himself from chuckling as Frisk hurriedly put the book down and scooted away.

 

“I can’t believe you still remember that happening. It was years ago!” Frisk muttered indignantly.

 

“Yeah, well, one doesn’t easily forget getting their arse kicked by a giant mother goat,” he replied with a sheepish grin. “But anyway, the reason I wanted to talk to you is that...those echo flowers that’ve turned up. It doesn’t take a genius to realise that there’s something really different about them. They’re giving visions now instead of just recordings and they’re popping up everywhere. These echo flowers have been the only extreme phenomenon - for now - that’ve been able to show us a message. It’s just a hunch but I think what they’re showing might be linked to discovering how to fix this situation we’re in.” Sans stood up and began to pace, brow furrowed, a clear sign he was in deep thought.

 

“There’s a reason that they were put here and there’s a reason that they’ve got messages. It can’t just be a mistake and even if it is, I’m willing to go after this lead. After all, it IS the only one we’ve got.” Sans halted in his restless pacing and whirled around, startling his friend in the process. “And that’s where you come in.”

 

“Me?”

 

“You’re the only one who can see and hear these messages. I’ve tried - believe me, I have - and it hasn’t worked. It’s why you’re so important, kid,” Sans gripped at Frisk’s shoulders, eyes glittering with enthusiasm. Then he remembered himself and he hurriedly let go, stuffing his hands into his pockets and turning away.

 

“You...I know you don’t like the echo flowers. I saw you look...terrified.”

 

“Sans-”

 

“I have no idea what you saw then but the way you talked about it...it didn’t sound like a good time.”

 

“Sans, wai-”

 

“And I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. I don’t want to hurt you...I’ve done enough alrea-”

 

“Sans!”

 

“...Yeah?”

 

“Sans, I’ll do it. Don’t worry about me,” she said with a weak smile. “If it means that we can find a way to fix this, I’ll be happy to.”

 

Sans resisted the temptation to hug her and settled for a gentle hair ruffle.

 

“I knew you’d say that,” he murmured to her. “Leave some selflessness to the others, won’t you? You’re using up the world’s supply.”

 

She gave a light hearted giggle and suddenly, they were back to how they were before: just good friends joking around and making each other smile. Sans had missed it.

 

“So, then I guess this notebook is for writing down what I see?”

 

“Bingo,” Sans said as he walked past her to the set of drawers behind her, patting her shoulder lightly as he did. “Also, number the notes, won’t you? It’s just easier for us both to track your progress. Hold on, lemme see if i have some tape you can use to label them with.”

 

“Got it. Hey, Sans, is that yours?”

 

“What is?” he had meant to say more but the words turned to ash in his mouth as his eyes landed on his battered notebook that lay abandoned on the carpet.

 

Hadn’t he put that back?

 

But there was no time to think and he had snatched it up and was clutching it to him in a way he desperately hoped wasn’t suspicious.

 

“Yeah, it is,” he said as he forced the edge out of his voice. “I take it around with me. Was using it to document the anomalies when you were out of it for that first week.”

 

“So that’s what you were doing,” Frisk gave a small laugh. “I was wondering why you were spending so much time out of the house.”

 

Sans’ smile faltered for just a second. Well, that was half of the truth.  In reality, he’d just wanted to get away from her for some time. The flicker of red _ haunted _ him. It had always either been Frisk or  _ her _ . What was he supposed to do when they seemed to be one and the same?

 

All of a sudden, Sans felt as if he really, desperately needed to be alone.

 

“Well, then, you’ve got your notebook.” He gently nudged Frisk towards the door, his smile growing more strained by the second. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Tomorrow? What about dinner? Aren’t you hungry?” 

 

“Nah, kid. I don’t have the stomach for it,” he said with a wink as he quickly directed her out of his room. “And I worked myself to the bone today; I’m gonna need a skele-ton of sleep to catch up!”

 

“So you go and eat dinner,” he continued over his friend’s increasingly frustrated protests. 

“Bone-appetit! Send my regards to the chef!” And with that, he shoved Frisk out and slammed the door. Sans exhaled in relief and leaned his head against the door as he slid down to the ground. 

 

What was he  _ doing? _

 

“Good night, Sans,” came a muffled reply from behind the door. “Hope you feel better soon. I...uh...I’ll save you a hotdog,” she added as an afterthought.

 

Sans shut his eyes and let himself smile.

 

“Good night, kid.”

 

\--

Sans would’ve liked to think he was a very  _ controlled _ monster...although his erratic behaviour last night didn’t do him in favours in justifying it. However, he had mostly lived as someone unfazeable and the new addition of Gaster’s change to him had somewhat suppressed the few emotions he’d been able to retain. But, as he watched Frisk stride onwards purposefully, he thought fondly to himself that there wasn’t a force on this planet that could stop you from being swept up in her pace. 

 

Sans had awoken that morning to the sound of Frisk’s persistent hammering, an event which was quickly becoming tradition but  _ definitely _ not by choice. She’d dragged him out his groggy stupor and out the door with a few half-hearted apologies and a heartfelt laugh and after she smiled at him like that, he decided to just go with it. 

 

And now he was trudging a few paces behind her as Frisk, clutching her notebook in one hand and a stubby pencil in the other, ambled her way down the snowy path and whistled a rambling tune.

 

“Hey, sleepyhead!” she called back with a grin. “Hurry up, won’t you?”

 

“What can I say, kid? I’m a lazybones. And what’s the rush? Something pressing on your mind?”

 

Her smile faltered.

 

“Something like that,” she said quietly as she scuffed her shoe on the cobbled stones. “Just want to get an early start today, I suppose.”

 

Sans said nothing for a second then reached out to give her head a solid pat.

 

“Fair enough,” he murmured as he brushed past. “Maybe just not as early next time, okay kid? I’m not much of a morning person.”

 

“Right.” Sans froze as her arms closed around his waist in a quick hug then watched in startled awe as she raced ahead, her seemingly endless energy returned once more. “Come on, Sans! Let’s go find some echo flowers!”

 

Sans stared at her for a moment then fell into an easy smile.

 

“What a handful,” he mumbled to himself and began to plod after her trail of messy footprints.

  
  


Sans spent the next few hours with Frisk, watching stoically nearby as a stone-faced guardian as his friend plunged into vision after vision. He was there to catch her when she left the illusions teary-eyed and shaking, there to smile at all the right places when she came out with a glitter in her eye and an outrageous story to tell, there to be a friend. And all the while, he kept a close eye on the orange glow of the giant gabled windows of the castle that lay beyond. 

 

It was during the later hours of the afternoon that Sans decided to begin. Snow that had formerly clung to his clothes were flung to the ground as he stood up and stretched.

 

“Sans? Where are you going?” Frisk asked as she looked up from the notebook she was writing in.

 

“Gonna take a walk,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Scout ahead, stretch my legs. You know, sitting in this snow all day has chilled me to the bone.”

 

“Oh okay. Wait a minute, let me finish up here and I’ll join you,” she said as she began to stand. Internally, Sans groaned. Frisk meant well but her care and kindness could often be done without, he thought absently to himself.

 

“Don’t bother. I won’t be going too far; I’ll be back before you know it. Besides, I can take care of myself,” he added with a smirk as he began to saunter away.

 

“I know that!” She called after him indignantly and grumbled something unintelligible.

 

“What was that?”

 

“I SAID you try way too hard to be cool!” She yelled back, her face reddening with embarrassment.

 

“...You think I'm cool?” 

 

Frisk’s eyes widened as the vibrant blush spread to the tips of her ears. Sans almost expected steam to come out of them. 

 

“Ugh! Just leave!” She spluttered as she shoved him away and down the path, pointedly ignoring his teasing comments that quickly descended into laughter. Sans, in the midst of his drunkenly giddy haze, looked down at the girl determinedly pushing him along, the redness in her cheeks still as prominent as ever, and told himself to take this moment and keep it close. 

 

“Okay okay, I get it, I’m going!”  he managed to say as his chuckles began to quiet. Frisk gave one final nudge to spur him down the track then stood back, her arms crossed and a look of half-hearted reproach spread across her features. She would’ve looked daunting if the red tinge to her cheeks hadn’t ruined it.

 

“I’ll see ya later, kid. Don’t wait up,” he called back, grinning, as he began to stride down the path once more. 

 

“Stay safe,” came Frisk’s reply after a short silence, her reluctance in letting him leave obvious in her tone. 

 

In response, Sans waved a lazy goodbye as he rounded the corner and left Frisk’s line of sight. He continued on for a few more paces, just as a precaution, his somewhat jovial air disappearing more and more with each step. When he finally stopped, his stature had retained none of the warmth from before and was instead replaced by an air of tried exhaustion. However, the burning bright light in the dark socket that was his eye told a different story.

 

Eyes firmly shut, Sans drew in a deep breath of numbingly cold air and focused. In his mind’s eye, he let himself fall into sense of pure ‘without’, drowning himself in the stillness of nothing and, with an unearthly sound of rushing wind, he was gone. Behind his eyelids, images of different locations in the underground rushed past, blurring into an amalgamation of lurid colour and barely recognizable landmarks. To any other monster, the mere concept of this idea would be unimaginable but, to the experienced and hardened mind of Sans, deciphering the jumble of images was nothing more strenuous than a daily chore. 

 

Though it did give him slight headaches. 

 

Sans, after a mere millisecond of searching, pinpointed his target and stepped forth. As he fell forward, the air around him seemed to pull back as if being pushed through a suction and, for a second, it seemed as if he was falling up rather than down. But then the world righted itself and, when his boot touched the ground, he was at his destination. 

 

Sans let out a sigh and stretched. Now that he’d just finished teleporting, he supposed he could understand Frisk feeling nauseous now and then. But it was admittedly much more efficient. 

 

The lone skeleton strolled down the pale-grey stone corridor, hands stuffed firmly into his pockets as his eye darted around, surveying his surroundings with muted interest. The halls of the castle had used to be blank and stark, nothing exceptionally eye-catching save for the odd vase of golden flowers. Now, it was overflowing with greenery. Gigantic ferns rose from the cracked stone floor, blooming vines covered every possible surface and flowers flourished in bouts. Pillars were replaced by towering wizened trees, the stone rubble remains lying forlornly nearby, long overcome by moss and tiny buds of blossoms yet to come. Fireflies drifted lazily through the air, their light coupled with the unearthly aquamarine glow from the plants illuminating the not-quite-darkness that shrouded the castle in faint shadow. 

 

Sans paid no heed to the endless beauty around him. His mind was preoccupied with more serious matters.

 

As he neared the general area of the subject of his thoughts, Sans drew out a cigar from the packet hidden in his jacket pocket. He looked sternly into the empty space of the box and sighed. 

 

_Last one_ , he thought to himself. _Better make it count._

 

With the light of the flame of his cigar illuminating his features in a flickering ghostly glow, Sans arrived at his destination. Slowly, he placed a bony hand on the silver handles to the humongous double doors and-

 

“Avoiding you, huh? What a load of lies.” *

 

Sans’ grip on the handles tightened. He didn’t need to turn around to know who was speaking.

 

“ _ Flowey, _ ” he grated out through gritted teeth. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I could ask the same thing of you .”

 

“I’m doing the right thing,” he said steadily, emphasising each word, as the handle groaned under the strength of his grasp.

 

“Yeah, right,” Flowey scoffed. “We’ve discussed this before. You’re only going to hurt her more by keeping this from her. I’m just trying to keep her safe!”

 

“What do you know?” Sans snarled. “ ‘Just trying to keep her safe’? That’s rich coming from the guy who nearly killed her.”

 

“Yes, but you were the one who actually did.”

 

Sans inhaled sharply as a golden flame flared to life in his eye.

 

“That was Chara,” he managed to choke out through the burning lump in his throat.

 

“You’re deluding yourself, Sans,” Flowey explained patiently as if he was a teacher explaining a simple idea to a child. Sans hated him for it. “Chara and Frisk...during those times...they’re the same perso-”

 

“Shut up!”

 

Plants nearby combusted into flame, destroying the peaceful calm of the glade. Flowey, unperturbed, gave a long sigh.

 

“Sans, I  _ know _ , okay? I’m her friend too. I love her as much as you do and every day I regret hurting her in the past. But that’s exactly why we need to do this. I was like Chara. I know that the only way she can defeat this...soulless part of her is to remember! To remember, to cry and weep and then grow stronger!” Flowey stared at the skeleton hunched over the door, pleading. “Please!”

 

“I  _ have _ to.”

 

The silence that followed lay thick in the air, punctuated only by the soft crackling of flames.

 

“How  _ selfish _ .”

 

The disgust in Flowey’s tone was almost palpable. Finally at his wits end, Sans whirled around, enraged, fireballs ready in his hands and his mouth twisted into a snarl.

 

“How dare y-!” He began but his words died in his throat as he realised Flowey had left. 

 

Overcome by a crushing feeling he couldn’t identify, Sans stood there for a second in silence then quickly doused his flames, eyes tightly shut. Inside, emotions blazed, thoughts fighting for dominance. But then, that familiar chill that he had long since associated with the influence of his former mentor sweeped through, blowing out the flames and soothing the burns.

 

When Sans opened his eyes, there was no more frailty.

 

He returned his sights to the huge double doors and, without a moment’s hesitation, decisively pushed it open.

 

He had expected it, but the sight still unnerved him. Echo flowers blanketed nearly every surface possible in Judgement Hall, their blue glow contrasting deeply with the ever-present golden light. You could barely see the checkered pattern of the tiles through the hordes and hordes of the aqua flowers. Even the windows were slightly obscured, the light trickling in between the blossoms that hung overhead, creating strange shadows in their collective groups. 

 

Sans took no care in navigating through the hall, carelessly trampling over the delicate flowers with his combat boots. His eyes flew around the hall, locking onto particular flowers that he especially remembered. The one that grew high on the pillar to his left was when she dodged an attack then was speared by another that pinned her there until she bled to her death. The clump of flowers to his right was when she’d darted straight into a gaster blaster beam that decimated her into nothing more than a pile of dust. And that one directly in front of him was when she hugged him...and he murdered her. 

 

Sans crushed that one under the sole of his boot until it was nothing more than a few loose petals that lay abandoned on the floor. 

 

When he’d finally reached the middle of the room, he made himself turn around and look at the spot near the door. Next to the double doors, in the very far corner of the hall, there lay a smattering of echo flowers that sprouted so close to each other, their petals overlapped. Sans didn’t let himself feel anything as he stared down at the group of flowers that marked his death. He couldn’t.

 

Tearing his eyes away from the morbid sight, Sans looked round at the golden hall and  _ seethed _ . The place was nothing more than awful memories, testaments to their pain and suffering. Memories that Frisk could do without. His grip tightened ever so slightly on the smouldering cigar he still held between his fingers.

 

His eyes narrowed into slits as he let it fall.

\--

Flowey hadn’t left.

 

He’d watched from the shadows as Sans hid himself, Gaster’s true influence on his mental state revealing itself once more. 

 

He’d watched as he’d opened the doors and had trampled over the echo flowers that could’ve saved her. 

 

He’d watched as Sans’ inferno tore through the room and incinerated every flower there, reducing them all to ash in a matter of seconds.

 

The ash hadn’t even settled before Sans was gone. 

 

Flowey should’ve been enraged, and he was. But more overpowering was his exhaustion. He had expected this. 

 

He understood where Sans was coming from, attempting to protect Frisk from the truth, but in the end, it was ultimately just wish fulfilment. Frisk had proven time and time again that she was strong, kind and, most of all, reliable. That girl was the reason why he hadn’t broken the barrier a decade ago, her warning of the cruelty of humanity and the consequences that came forthwith echoing in his mind. He’d remembered looking up at her pleading eyes and deciding, for the first time in years, that he would trust someone. He would trust her enough that he wouldn’t give monsters their coveted freedom and if that wasn't proof enough of his faith in her, he didn’t know what would be. It had been a spur of the moment decision, his judgement clouded by the return of long-lost emotions, and from time to time he wondered to himself what would’ve happened if he’d opened the barrier anyway. But in any case, he somehow knew that whatever happened that day, Frisk would’ve been someone to rely on.

 

It had been a pleasant revelation. Finally, there was someone to depend upon, someone who was strong and powerful in her own peaceful way but acted with the mercy and kindness of someone the past him would’ve called a weakling. With Frisk beside him, urging him on gently, he could finally become something more than mistakes. He could return to his life, cry with his parents tears of relief and really, just  _ live _ . He could finally let Chara go.

  
  


_ What a load of garbage. _

  
  


Chara had returned and so did his memories of previous timelines, at the courtesy of Gaster. He’d remembered the betrayal, the fear, and he had shivered. 

 

But it was different. He was older. He had learned how to cherish his world more and more. Like he actually deserved to live. And with the addition of his new - or rather, old - memories, he knew what he had to do.

 

He had to be strong. He had to be like Frisk. He had to be merciful and save his world.

 

He had to give Chara up. It had been years since her death but still her presence threatened everything he held dear. He had a new life, a reset, that was full of gentle words and kindness and he couldn’t-no, he _ wouldn’t  _ let Chara destroy everything like she had in other timelines.

 

He had been determined.

 

So he had gone down to where he knew she was being held, firmly steadfast in his decision. But his resolve had almost broken when he saw her face. It was too familiar, too many memories full of laughter and innocent fun and he forced himself to remember the timelines of death and dust to keep himself going.

 

Because he  _ had _ to do it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

_ “Chara.” _

 

_ Flowey internally cringed at how loud his voice seemed to be in the lonely corridor but forced himself to focus on the girl held up by chains. The subject of his thoughts perked up and her head shot up, her red eyes glittering in a mixture of surprise and relief. _

 

_ “Azzy!” she exclaimed joyfully and it took all Flowey had to keep his resolve from shattering.  _

 

_ Remember the dust. Remember the death. _

 

_ “Oh Azzy, thank god you’re here. Help me get out of here! I know the number code; it’s 6 digits long and it’s-!” _

 

_ “Chara,” he interrupted tiredly. _

 

_ “What?” she asked,impatience laced in her words and her brow furrowed in a way that was far too familiar. Flowey took a deep breath. _

 

_ “Chara, I remember the past timelines. I remember all of them.” _

 

_ And just like that, Flowey watched as her soft features hardened into those sharp angular lines, pure disdain dripping from her every feature. It was one of those moments when he could truly understand Sans’ perspective. How could Frisk ever be something like this? _

 

_ “Oh.” _

 

_ The joy was gone. Now there was just venom. _

 

_ “Chara, why are you here? Why can’t you just let us live in peace?”  _

 

_ Flowey hadn’t planned for questions, but the words had seemed to have tumbled out of his mouth. _

 

_ “Azzy, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she began, her innocent facade in place once more. She was an amazing actor, Flowey thought to himself. The lip tremble, the wide eyes. Anybody would’ve fallen for it. But he knew better. “ Azzy, I’m just scared, I need to get out of here, you know how much I hate these small spaces! Please, just help me out of here and I can explain everything!” _

 

_ She waited, chains straining as she leaned forward, a hopeful smile plastered on her face. He couldn’t look at her.  _

 

_ “Chara,” he finally managed to say. “I can’t help you.” _

 

_ “What?” came the whisper of a reply. She was giving him time to fix his mistake. _

 

_ “I’m not going to help you. I can’t let you out.” _

 

_ “Why not?” _

 

_ “Because if I do, you’ll destroy everything. And there’s too much here that’s at stake.” _

 

_ Flowey heard the shaky intake of breath but he cut her off before she could say anything to sway his resolve. _

 

_ “I’m going to change everything, Chara,” he looked up, eyes wide, pleading with her to forgive him for what he was going to do. “But first…” _

 

_ “...I just want you to know that I love you.” _

 

_ And he did. How could he not? His first friend, his best friend, his sister, his companion, his partner...Chara was all of this and more. If Chara hadn’t existed, Frisk probably wouldn’t have come down to their world and that was something truly inconceivable. But as he sadly watched Chara’s face twist with rage, he knew that she felt nothing but hate.  _

 

_ “Love me? If you really loved me you would get me out of here!” _

 

_ Flowey had to go.  _

 

_ “I’m sorry, Chara.” _

 

_ “What? No! Don’t you dare-” _

 

_ “I love you so much.” _

 

_ Were those tears? _

 

_ “Don’t you dare leave me here! I need you! Azzy, you’re my best friend! Please! Don’t do it!” _

 

_ “I have to.” _

 

_ “NO!” she screeched. “You can’t leave! How dare you! After all I’ve done-After all YOU’VE DONE! You little piece of trash, we could’ve had EVERYTHING!” _

_  
_ _ “You’re not any better, _ Flowey _!” She snarled. “You’ve ruined everything as well! You’re a hypocrite, a big fat liar and you seem to think that just because you’ve got friends now that you’re free, it was all a bad dream. Well, news flash, junior, that’s not the case! They all hate you, they despise you, they blame you for not opening the barrier because they all knew you could! I’m the only one who can understand you; you said it yourself, don’t you remember? They’ll never love you. I’m the only one out there who will care for you and cherish you and oh, Azzy, don’t you remember how amazing it felt to kill? Let’s do it again! Let’s do it all again, let’s rip them apart and make them rue the day they dared to think of separating us!”  _

 

_ Flowey’s eyes widened in horror as he witnessed her eyes sink into her skull, the darkness in the pupils of her eyes spreading and dripping down her face like horrifying black tears that melted into the ground with a sizzle and a hiss. Seemingly not noticing his growing terror, she leaned forward, her eerie grin burning the image of itself in his eyes, and babbled on in glee. _

 

_ “Just reset, just go back and we can kill them, we can slice and dice and make them into a pie, just like Mum’s, and ooh! Let’s see who dies first this time! Oh, what a fun game!” _

 

_ “What happened to you, Chara?” He whispered shakily in his state of undescribable fear. She cocked her head, grin widening as she replied, “Whatever could you mean, Azzy? I haven’t changed at all. What’s with that look? Don’t you love me?” _

 

_ “No. Not _ **_you._ ** _ ” _

 

_ And then he was plunging underneath the ground, leaving behind her muffled screams of protest, of outrage, of deranged laughter and vile threats and he was running away because that’s all he could do. _

 

_ That’s all he could ever do. _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

 

Flowey sped through the Underground, his roots propelling him swiftly forward through the earth. 

Although he couldn’t have the reality-distorting power of teleportation, he could have a satisfactory substitute.

 

After becoming a flower, Flowey had quickly realised he could appear and disappear wherever there was any free space, his determination-embedded body being able to seemingly penetrate through any surface. He’d quickly learned to take advantage of it to access areas which normal monsters didn’t even know the existence of, one of which he was currently purposefully speeding towards.

 

Flowey frowned as unwanted thoughts creeped into his mind. Was he really doing the right thing here? Maybe, just maybe, this time it could work out. Nobody had to be hurt any more than they already had. 

 

He shook his head. 

 

No. He had seen this before. The timeline where he let them be. And he’d seen Chara escape and rip through all he’d loved, gleeful as screams echoed throughout the Underground. He wouldn’t allow himself to make the same mistake twice.

 

Sans had forced his hand. If he would be steadfast in his decision of deception, Flowey would do the same.

 

Eyes narrowed with purpose, no more traitorous thoughts plagued him for the rest of the journey.

 

Finally, he popped out of the earth and into an unearthly space of nothing. Before him stood a hulking mass of what could be described as the essence of ‘dark’, yet darker. A shiver ran down his spine as Flowey eyed the shapeless form swivel around smoothly, elegant and retaining none of its previous ineptness in motion. A ghostly face, broken and twisted in the most literal and figurative way imaginable, came into view coupled with a pair of chalky hands that seemed to claw at nothing.

 

Flowey forced away the otherworldly chill that seeped into his body and gazed steadily at the looming glitch before him.

 

“Gaster,” he said, his voice somehow being amplified and muffled at the same time in the mysterious void.

  
”We have a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Flowey is referencing what Sans said to Frisk about the matter of Asriel in a previous chapter:“No. I’ve seen hints of him here and there but it seems like he’s avoiding us for now.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like always, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update this fic. I know I always have the same excuses but I'll hope you guys will forgive me. Lucky for you this chapter is extra long! I think it's the longest one so far so have fun! As always, comments and concrit are very welcome. 
> 
> Stay awesome, guys!

Sans watched as his breath steamed in the air, wincing slightly at the abrupt change in temperature, and clasped his fingers around his empty matchbox. He waited for a few seconds, fervently mashing his boots into the snow to mimic the appearance of someone who’d been tramping around for a while, then strode forward out of the confines of the sheltered alcove of the forest he’d teleported to and into the plains of snow-covered flowers. As he emerged, he caught sight of Frisk who stood with her back to him and her face held up curiously to the ceiling, her notebook and pen hanging limply from her grasp. The aqua flowers that surrounded her seemed to lean away from her still figure even as their glow bathed her form in a ghostly light.

 

“Slacking off?” he called out to her as he attempted to chase away the odd feeling that had settled in his mind. What was she doing?

 

“No. Just catching snowflakes,” she murmured quietly. Sans’ brow furrowed as he swept a cursory eye around them.

 

“It’s not snowing, kid,” he muttered as his suspicions began to grow. What was going on?

 

“Yeah.” came her wistful reply.

 

“What?” he said sharply as he placed a hand on her shoulder and forced her to wheel around to look at him. For a second, he thought he saw a flash of red in her brown eyes but then he blinked and it was gone. Frisk looked at him, confused.

 

“What?” she repeated, clearly disoriented. “Oh, you’re back! Took a while on that walk. What were you doing?”

 

“Uh…” Sans quickly took a step back, momentarily lost for words. “Just checking up on things.”

 

Frisk snorted.

 

“Could you be any more vague?”

 

“It’s what I do.”

 

“Can’t argue with that,” she conceded with a grin and turned her attention back to her notebook. “I’m finished with this area so let’s move on to....”

 

She paused for a second as she referred back to the annotated map Sans had provided her with a few days ago that showed how he’d sectioned off the Underground into various areas.

 

“...sector 4,” she finished and strode away down the path.

 

“You’re already finished?” Sans looked back incredulously at the field of flowers that he stood before that, even if seemed to be dutifully marked by the weatherproofed slips he’d given her, seemed like far too large of an area to finish in such a time by one person. She grunted back affirmatively in reply as she busied herself with flipping through her notes.

 

“And...you didn’t have any issues with them?” he asked, recalling her previous reactions that’d included headaches and tears.

 

“Of course not,” she halted and cocked her head, pouting at him as if the very thought of doubting her was something offensive. “Why would I? Now get a move on! We’ve got a lot more ground to cover before the day is done!”

 

Sans narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at her retreating form and began to steadily tread after her, all the while forcing himself not to think about the fact that Frisk’s tone for their entire conversation had been far too similar to _hers_.

 

\--

Frisk stretched out on the couch like a cat and adjusted the pillow nestled under her head as she flipped through the pages of her notebook half-heartedly. She was, as Sans would say, ‘bone-tired’ with her legs sore and aching from walking all day. The perpetual crick in her neck didn’t help matters either. She smiled to herself and chuckled, marvelling at how much of an old lady she’d become at the ripe age of 18.

 

“Something funny?” Sans asked from his position sprawled on the floor between her and the TV. He had another pillow underneath his skull with his arm resting on his forehead, a clear sign that he too was as exhausted as she was. Behind them, rain battered at the windows, producing a cosy atmosphere that caused her to snuggle deeper into her blanket.

 

“Mm,” she answered softly. “Some of these universes are hilarious.”

 

“That so?” Sans’ voice remained politely passive; she knew he was only humouring her for the sake of a conversation and she appreciated his efforts, however meagre, at attempting to fill the silence.

 

“Yeah, there’s a timeline here that has you as a member of a mob.”

 

“A mob? What, like a gang or something?”

 

“Yeah, you’re apparently pretty suave in this universe,” Frisk pretended not to hear his rather indignant reply of “Apparently? What does that mean?” and continued on. “Except you have an unhealthy obsession with crowbars. You’re even named after them. Crowbar Rouge.”

 

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘till you’ve pried it,” Sans replied complacently with a mischievous grin on his face that only widened at the muffled sound of Frisk’s laughter. “But while I’m saying that, what’s with that? Rouge? Am I French in this universe?”

 

“Nah, just trashy. There’s one where you’re Spanish though.”

 

“Spanish?”

 

“Yeah, everybody is. It’s like a giant Spanish soap opera. It even has close ups!” Frisk giggled at Sans’ wide-eyed reaction. “Papyrus has a sombrero.”

 

Sans had pushed himself up into a sitting position by now and he was levelling a disbelieving look her way.

“I swear you’re making this up as you go, kid. There is no way that is real.”

 

“You’re the one who said that all alternate universes are legitimate in their own right. Nothing is impossible, remember?”

 

“Oh, _god_ ,” Sans groaned and sagged back to the ground in mock-mortification. “At least the one with the gold tooth has some fashion sense.”

 

Frisk’s smile wavered for a second.

 

“Mm,” she murmured shortly as she looked down at her notebook and fiddled with the pages. What a mood-killer, she mused sombrely. The one with the gold tooth. What a funny way to refer to the monster that had given her so much grief albeit not directly. He’d been the one that had told her time and time again that whatever she did, she would never make a difference and it had reminded her of her time above ground that was full of memories she didn’t like reminiscing over. Her jaw tensed as she remembered what he’d said to her one day when the alternate version of herself had passed by his snow-covered sentry stand.

 

_“Just give up, sweetheart. You’ll never survive out there.”_

 

It was a slap in the face to realise that these types of universes existed. Universes that were full of distrust and fury, universes where simply a wrong word said at the wrong time could get you ‘dusted’, universes where even the kindest souls could rot in hell. She’d seen so many of them where her friends had been mutilated beyond compare, where monsters who wore familiar faces walked around with the soul of a stranger. She weeped for them but more often than not she just felt numb. And that was terrifying because, even now, she knew she was beginning to lose herself. In every vision, she saw a scene play out before her like a movie and every time she forced herself not to feel because that was the only way to survive through them. Enveloped in that sense of unfeeling, that distance, felt...odd. Cold. And she remembered earlier that day that long after a vision had passed, images and sounds were still playing in the darkness behind her eyelids. She’d tried to focus on the pictures, attempted to identify the vague shapes in her mind’s eye but she’d only managed to catch a glimpse of falling snowflakes and the cheerful sound of a muffled laugh. Even when Sans broke her out of her trance when he returned from his walk, the cold lingered, just for a little while, and it was surprisingly not unpleasant. Frisk shook her head and shoved that thought away. What was she thinking? She needed to stay focused on saving her friends. Being cold and unfeeling would probably be counter-productive to that goal. But...would it? The echo flowers showed her unimaginable things, disasters that made her want to scream and weep and love. The strain on her conflicting emotions was enormous and that numbness, that feeling of detachment was a blissful respite. Was her wanting to be able to help her loved ones without changing herself so drastically too much to ask? Frisk frowned and slid her fingers underneath the page and folded it in half, firmly running a finger down the side to crease the paper.

 

“Touchy subject?” Sans’ voice pierced through her reverie and she turned back to him as she unfolded the paper and smoothed it out.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You went all quiet. That usually means something, kid.”

 

“I’m just thinking.”

 

“And you call me vague,” he snorted. Frisk laughed faintly and watched her friend sit up, take a book from the table nearby and settle down again. After a moment of observing Sans patiently flip through the pages, she spoke again.

 

“The one with the gold tooth. About him.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You know…” Frisk paused to think twice about what she was about to say but Sans’ prompting glance instigated her into continuing. “There’s a variation of his universe where every time I die, a flower grows on my body,” Frisk flicked her gaze upwards and subconsciously reached out, hand splayed, towards the ceiling. If she shut her eyes she could still see the sight of her younger self sobbing quietly to themselves in the dark room of an inn, flowers a mockingly-cheerful shade of yellow clustered in groups around her face and forearm. “Last time I saw that timeline, half of my face and my arm was covered in them.”

 

She hadn’t noticed him move but, all of a sudden, Sans was next to her and was gripping her wrist gently.

 

“No flowers,” he said with a comforting squeeze.  “You’re still here.”

 

Frisk gazed at him from under her covers and let a tired smile spill across her features.

 

“I haven’t died yet, though.” she flicked her gaze to her hands that seemed unnaturally thin in the light and ran her thumb across the coarse beds of her fingertips. He shot her a knowing look.

 

“We both know you’ve died multiple times in this timeline,” he pointed out and Frisk smiled to herself because she would always forget that Sans was that much more special. He knew so much more than he should. “But you always get back up,” he added softly as he shifted his grip from her wrist to her hand. “Always managed to save us.”

 

They didn’t speak for a while, both focused on the sight of both their hands clasped together.

 

“Think you can do it one more time?” he asked and looked up, staring at her with an expression that made her squeeze his hand and force a reassuring smile. At that moment, Frisk promptly made the decision she’d do whatever it took to save her friends.

  
“Yeah.”

 

Even if it meant she would have to change.

\--

From that day onwards, Sans started to let Frisk go out on her own to note down the echo flowers. Perhaps it was a risky move considering the fact that Flowey was still out there, but he had to start deciphering the messages. He and Frisk had made an agreement that she would provide the information whilst he would use it to figure out the importance of the echo flowers’ visions and it was about time to hold up his end of the deal. He had decided to use a different notebook, opting to take one of Mettaton’s numerous ‘backup’ diaries, since Sans’ own personal notebook was far too risky. He was planning on sharing this information with his partner and if she happened to look back at the previous entries...well, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to let her see them. How the hell had it even gotten out the first time? He was sure he’d put it back in the drawer.

 

Sans didn’t let himself agonize over it for too long, chalking it up to simple carelessness, and instead turned his attention to making some progress, a task which quickly proved to be easier said than done.

 

Trying to string together a comprehensible record out of random glimpses in timelines was hard on him. Even after he tried asking Frisk to rewatch visions numerous times to catch any detail that might’ve shown a difference in time period, the timeline still had such huge gaps. Plus, the fact that he hadn’t had a single smoke in over two weeks was just really making a bad situation a whole lot worse. With practically no way of relief, Sans had begun to entirely avoid sleeping. He was...drained to say the least but it was a small price to pay to lessen the impact of the nightmares that had begun to come a lot more frequently.

 

On a night that seemed to blur into others, Sans looked up from his notebook and groaned. The headache had been buzzing around in his head for hours but only now was it really becoming a painful nuisance. Instinctively, he reached for his jacket pocket but growled to himself as he realised for the nth time that he didn’t have any more cigarettes. He exhaled through his nose then left his room, making sure to leave his notebook in a locked drawer as he did.

 

He needed to get some fresh air. The cold would wake him up, if nothing else.

 

As he descended down the stairs, he caught sight of Frisk sprawled out on the couch. She’d come back home much later than usual that day and had walked in, flopped on the couch and just passed out. God knows what had kept her out for so long. As Sans passed by, he inattentively swept a stray strand of hair behind her ear and Frisk shifted slightly, murmuring something unintelligible in her sleep.

 

His gaze roved around his surroundings, taking in her mussed up hair and her half-open red backpack that’d been gifted to her by Papyrus long ago. Objects spilled over the lip of the bag; water bottles, snacks, a raincoat, an umbrella, a pencil case and her prized notebook had tumbled out and onto the floor, making a mess his former self would’ve been proud of. With a begrudging sigh, he began packing away the mess, his newly acquired need for tidiness kicking in, but when he happened upon the notebook, he paused. He hadn’t yet noted down the new messages so he should probably return to his room and do it then while it was convenient. As the thought occurred, he found himself looking down at Frisk’s sleeping face, her gentle features bathed in the golden glow of the lamp and promptly sat himself down on the carpet next to the couch. What was the rush? As long as he could finish transferring the information from the new entries to his notebook before she left again in the morning, sparing a few minutes to keep her company would be fine.

 

With the comforting sound of Frisk’s steady breathing in the background, Sans decided to look through the lined pages of her notebook if only to have something to do. As he flipped through, he found his focus switching from the neatly printed words to the small doodles in the spare corners of the pages. Soon he found himself looking for the drawings. He snorted lightly at the smudged sketch of him with ‘COOL GUY’ scrawled above it and grinned fondly at the illustration of past him and Papyrus with his younger brother wielding a comically huge plate of spaghetti. Mettaton made, as he would say ‘a star appearance’, with his high-heeled legs stretching over the entire passage of the page and Alphys was given a cameo with Undyne nearby, sitting together and holding hands at a lower dog eared corner of another page. Toriel and Asgore had been allocated two separate pages with her adoptive mother expectantly holding a plate with a slice of butterscotch pie on it and Asgore being dressed in a flowery apron and diligently watering some flowers nearby. Sans looked over them all with a great big smile as he felt his motivation come back to him in bouts, brushing his fingers fondly over each of the little doodles.

 

It hadn’t been what he’d come down there for but it was exactly what he’d needed.

 

Just as he was about to shut the book and go back upstairs to pore over his notes once more, something caught his eye. On the lower corner of the back of the wooden cover, Frisk had drawn past-him and herself together, feet touching and with a blanket around the two of them. It was a depiction of a day quite a while ago when Frisk had been upset and he’d sat her down, positioned their feet together then said “Now we’re solemates!”. The giggle that he’d managed to coax out of her had produced one of his goofiest smiles yet and he’d kept the memory close. Now, in retrospect, it was a simple enough occurrence that shouldn’t have stuck with anyone for too long and yet, clearly, for Frisk it had. As he gazed at it from under half-lidded eyes, he subconsciously reached up to take Frisk’s hand in his and squeezed it.

 

“Sans? Is that you?” she mumbled groggily as she stirred. Sans quickly shut the book and pushed it to the side, covering up the drawing she probably didn’t want him to see. No use to subject her to any needless embarrassment, he thought as he looked up apologetically and gave her a reassuring smile.

 

“Yeah. Sorry to wake you, kid,” he uttered and internally grinned at the sight of Frisk with her soft hair haphazardly falling across her face in clumps, their hands still firmly clasped together.

 

She gave an indistinct grumble of a reply. A short comfortable silence lay between them, punctuated only by the comforting rhythm of her breaths. Then she shifted, clothes rustling, and suddenly, his line of sight was being obscured by a slightly soggy cigarette box.

 

“For you,” she mumbled sleepily and, after taking care to place it in Sans’ palm, retreated back into her covers. He blinked once, twice at the box then broke into a grin.

 

“Thanks, kid,” he said appreciatively as he turned the box over in his palm. It didn’t look too shady and, as he flipped open the cover of the box, still had quite a few smokes left. “Did it take you long to find ‘em?”

 

She gave a short shake of her head then burrowed deeper into her blanket.

 

Heh. Liar, he thought as he grimaced at the distinctive odour of the garbage dump that clung to the box.

  
At least now he knew why she was out for so long.

 

He didn’t waste any time as he retrieved a cigarette from the box and held it up to his eye. Slightly damp but still useable. Just as he was about to light it, he glanced back at Frisk’s sleeping form and thought better of it, stuffing it back into the container and shoving it into his jacket pocket.

 

For another time, he thought. And with that he leaned back onto the couch, closed his eyes and, for the first time in quite a while, let himself relax.

 

Sans didn’t sleep. He simply sat there, head resting on one of the sofa cushions as he enjoyed the quiet calm of the night. In the silence, every sound seemed to be amplified so when he heard the distinctive rustle of movement behind him, he knew what to expect.

 

“Sans?” came her drowsy voice and he couldn’t keep himself from smiling. He could see her in his mind’s eye, groggy and eyes still plagued by sleep, wrapped up in her blanket like a giant burrito and, honestly, it was just too adorable.

 

“Mm?” he answered softly as he heard her move closer. “Need something?”

 

Without warning, her hands were tight around his neck and he was being pushed onto his back. As he struggled for air, scrabbling at her hands that seemed to have a death grip on his neck, he watched with rising terror as Frisk -no, Chara - leaned forward and gave him a taunting smirk.

 

“Did you really think I’d just go along with your stupid plan?” she hissed, scarlet eyes flashing with glee. “You’ve even more of an idiot than I thought you were!”

 

He let out a strangled gasp, thrashing underneath her weight, and gave her the most loathing look he could muster, all the while desperately trying to summon an attack. But it was to no avail because nothing came to his aid.

 

“Ooooh, scary,” she sneered mockingly as one of her hands moved to the stroke the side of his face almost lovingly. “Sorry, Sans.”

 

She paused to lean down until their faces were inches apart, her grip on his neck tightening until a splintering crack began forming under her touch.

 

“I win.”

 

In an instant, she violently wrenched his head at an impossible angle, there was an earsplitting crack and then the only thing he could feel was pain.

 

 

 

Sans awoke, shaking, gasping and with his eye aflame. Immediately, he whirled around, visibly relaxing as he saw Frisk exactly where she should be, asleep on the couch with her blanket snugly placed around her form. The feeling of her hands around his neck had not yet left him and the trembles that still wracked his body did nothing to alleviate his nerves. Sans took great hiccuping breaths and clutched fearfully at his neck as he tried to dispel the terror that was choking him. What had happened there? Why? It had been a dream but the realism had shaken him beyond compare and, somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice piped up,

 

 _“It may have been a dream,”_ it said. _“But aren’t dreams interpretations of the subconscious?”_

 

Flowey’s words echoed far too loud in his mind.

 

_“You’re deluding yourself.”_

 

_“They’re the same person.”_

 

Voices, unidentifiable but damning, joined in the chorus until the words were deafening.

 

**_“YOU’RE DELUDING YOURSELF.”_ **

 

**_“THEY’RE THE SAME PERSON.”_ **

 

If there was ever a time that Sans wished to smash his own brains in, this was it. Unbiddingly, he felt his eye flare with the traitorous thoughts and, even as he sought to desperately suppress the fire, a scream lay at the back of his throat, frenzied with fury and hurt and grief. Breathing in short, quick gasps, Sans shuddered, put his head in his hands and did his best to keep himself from shattering into pieces.

 

* * *

 

When Frisk woke up the next morning, she was alone, something that quickly became a trend. Wherever she was, Sans wasn’t. And when he was, their conversations were short, snappy, and nearly always ended with a brush off. With every rare interaction she had with the increasingly-elusive Sans, she felt her heart sink as she realised what was happening once again. He was retreating, backing away warily, and the distance between them now was even larger than before. After all the supposed progress they’d made in their friendship, it felt like a punch in the stomach.

 

What had she done wrong?

 

No matter how much she thought back over the last few days, she couldn’t find anything that would cause such a vehement display of disquiet on Sans’ part. At some point, after she’d had enough of agonizing silently over the issue, she’d outright asked him what was bothering him.

 

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” he’d said tersely as he pointedly looked anywhere but at her face. “It’s not you.”

 

 _‘Then what is it?’_ she wanted to scream. His rejection felt like a stab in her gut and every time he brushed past her or cut her off or just flat out ignored her, it was as if her heart had been stepped on. And the worst part of it was that she still didn’t know what she’d done wrong! Frisk desperately wished he would talk to her more but then again, who was Sans without his secrets? At length, she decided she wasn’t giving up on him - no, she was far from it. But with Sans barely being able to look her in the eye and the pressing issues to due with the matter with the echo flowers, Frisk dejectedly filed away that thought for another time. With the amount of difficulties Sans presented her with, she was quickly developing a collection, she thought to herself sardonically.

 

She continued on with her duties. After all, it wouldn’t do for her to be the only one slacking off on upholding their portion of the agreement. So she shrugged on the backpack, tied up the laces in her shoes and trudged out the door without a backwards glance.

 

And then she did it again.

 

And again.

 

And again until the days started to blur together into a continuous reel of vision after vision after vision. The process began to feel almost robotic and with the absence of Sans acting as her safety net, she found that the cold that she had at first been so wary of became solace. It embraced her, soothing her with whispered words that she could never really hear, wiping away the tears that threatened to soak her skin with the echoes of heart-wrenching screams, and with its help, everything fell away into the black. At some point, the cold began to seep into her reality. At times, it swamped her, pulling her under the surface with murmured comforts, and she would spend hours in its company, peacefully laid on the ground with her body wrapped around her core. Other times, it would just be there, gently washing over her mind like the rhythmic lapping of an ocean’s waves, and she would hold onto it, smiling gratefully to herself as it swept her along in its own pace every time. In those days where everything seemed to sting, the cold was something like a soothing balm. When there was the cold, there was peace. And when there wasn’t, there was turmoil. There was too much out there; too much to know, too much to feel, too much to care for.

 

Too much to save.

\--

Sans drummed distractedly on the page of his notebook with the end of his pen as he reread his notes for the nth time. Around him, the huge posters that he’d brought back from his lab were strewn across the floor, each of them entailing specific events in timelines with messy notes scrawled in every available space. Every now and then he’d glance at another piece of paper where a haphazard timeline mocked him with its glaringly obvious holes, his scrutinizing gaze growing more and more troubled with each second that passed. After a few seconds of glowering at the timeline that stayed adamantly unsolved, Sans scowled and tore out the page, scrunched it into a paper ball and hurled it towards the opposite corner where it soon added to an ever-growing pile. As he gave a long-suffering sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose and glared accusingly at his messy page of notes. Putting together a timeline wasn’t difficult, it was nigh impossible! There were such huge inconsistencies, time jumps that made no sense and the gaps between each correlating vision was enough to drive him mad. It was like trying to put together a puzzle whose pieces just didn’t fit together. But even as he felt frustration bubble up within him, he took a deep calming breath and turned his attention back to his notes.

 

 _Okay, stay calm,_ he thought to himself. _Getting frustrated isn’t gonna solve anything. Review and revise. Consolidate._

 

From what they knew, each universe had a core set of basics they had to uphold. The worlds seemed to possess all the same locations albeit with a few minor details and a widely varied colour palette. Seemed like the laws that governed these sorts of things had quite an interesting aesthetic, Sans noted wryly. The save points and reset features all seemed to still be in play and Sans thanked the powers that were that there weren’t any more additional anomalies besides the anticipated, because if there was one thing he absolutely did not need it was one more time warping conundrum to wrap his head around. All the monsters still remained - thank god for small miracles - even if in some universes they were so different they barely resembled their counterparts. Sans frowned bitterly as he thought back to his own gold-toothed red-eyed equivalent. It was surreal to think that an admittedly twisted variation of himself could give Frisk so much grief - though it wasn’t as if he himself was doing a better job, he thought churlishly to himself.

 

That dream had shaken him beyond all measure of logic. Even now he could still hear the murmuring chant at the back of his mind, each letter pulsing with a radiating pain that seemed to bleed into every musing until it was the only thing he could perceive. It had taken all his willpower not to instinctively blast Frisk into shreds when she’d woken up that morning. Even as he tried his very best to stare into the chocolate brown depths of her eyes, all he could see were the flickers of red and he had to turn away then because he didn’t trust himself, all the while hoping she hadn’t seen the beginnings of golden flames gathering around his eye.

 

And with no other option other than distance, he’d opted for ‘ignore the problem until it goes away’ method of dealing with his healing mind and of course it had backfired. He’d known he’d finally gone too far when he caught a glimpse of Frisk’s expression after he’d answered one of her more prying questions with a little more force than was necessary. He had stepped forward to apologise, his words already beginning to slip out, but by then she was already stumbling stiffly out the door and Sans was slapping himself because if there was ever any doubt, now it was confirmed for the world to see.

 

Sans was a world class screw up.

 

Of course, there had been other opportunities and he’d tried to take advantage of them as best as he could but judging from the way Frisk rushed out of the house and how she’d wordlessly handed him her notebook before brushing past to settle on the couch….well, let’s just say that Sans knew how to take a hint. In a way, the entire situation was rather ironic. It had always been him on the other side of this sort of situation and now that he was cast as the other party, he could understand how frustrating it could be.

 

Sans sat back, stunned as he looked retroactively back at his train of thought, and groaned. How had a reviewing session suddenly turned into a pity party? He exhaled slowly, steadily, attempting to suppress the growing pain in his skull that foretold an excruciating migraine and glanced unenthusiastically at his notes through slitted eyes.  But as he attempted to focus on the scrawled words, they seemed to swim and curl, smudging and blurring into a shapeless blob of grey. Perplexed, Sans rubbed his eyes and massaged his temples but now it appeared as if the effect was spreading to the rest of his room, causing the walls to expand and stretch in ways that seemed impossible. Sans narrowed his eyes and stood, hands crossed in a way that betrayed his discomfort. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t anticipated this but he’d been far from looking forward to it.

 

“To what do I owe your presence?” he bit out and just like that, a form that could only be described as something akin to the essence of shadow materialised in the centre of his room. His room stretched to its very limits, taut and concentrated around that figure then abruptly settled back into place with a satisfying pop.

 

“ **PeRCEpTIve aS AlWAys** ,” Gaster uttered smoothly. “ **YoUR tAlenTS aRE WasTEd, SAnS**.”

 

“What are you _doing_ here?” Sans snapped, straight to the point.

 

“ **I’Ve BeeN NoTiFIEd oF yOUr nEEd of Re-EDucATioN**.”

 

“Re-education?” Sans’ brow furrowed in bafflement then quickly smoothed out in realisation. He gave a mirthless laugh then stepped back to lean against the wall and gave his former mentor a searching look. “So you’re on Flowey’s side. And here I thought you’d support me on this one.”

 

“ **DoN’T Be A CHild, SAns. ThIS Isn’T oNE of Your FooLISh GamEs wHere YoU CAn PicK SiDes. THiS haS ConseQuences.** ”

 

Sans tried and failed to not glower at him. It had been years and yet Gaster still managed to get under his skin.

 

“Exactly. I’ve made my choice.”

 

“ **YoU’Ve MadE thE WronG onE.** ”

 

Sans chanced a quick glance upwards towards the face of Gaster and immediately regretted it. With a grunt, he pushed himself up from the wall and strode towards his door, eyes trained firmly ahead.

 

“I’m leaving,” he muttered as he passed by Gaster’s solitary form and opened the door, only for it to be violently slammed shut by a forceful tendril of darkness. Sans didn’t need to turn around to know that Gaster was right behind him, his eyes twisted with a muted fury and the mental image shook him to his core.

 

“ **DoN’T bE sO ImmATuRE** ,” Gaster hissed and this time Sans couldn’t suppress the shudder that travelled down his spine. “ **YoU’RE StiLL aS SenSeLess as FRom WheN I fiRST CreAted yOu.”**

 

Sans’ grip on his door handle tightened a fraction.

 

 **“OnE WoulD ThInK tHAt PaRtiALLy mErGing YouR SouL WiTh MinE WoULD MakE yOu MoRe LiKe MysElf. HoWevEr, It sEEms To HAve hAd thE OppoSIte EfFeCt.”** Gaster seamlessly slipped into his familiar analytical tone and Sans could feel that migraine returning with a vengeance. Without warning, golden flames burst from Sans’ palm and licked over the expanse of the door frame, swiftly melting away the darkness that clung there with only a second of hesitation. Sans couldn’t keep himself from smirking - after all, there was a certain irony in Gaster’s darkness being chased away by his own flames - but his grin died the moment he swiveled back round to Gaster who wore the most infuriatingly bemused expression of all time.

 

“What a shame,” Sans replied dryly and slammed the door behind him without another word.

\--

_She breathed in and giggled as the chilly air stung her throat. Snow flew up in flurries as she skipped through the snow-poff ridden wonderland, slowing occasionally to dance in between the falling snowflakes._

 

_She stiffened slightly as hands reached around her neck but immediately relaxed as she recognised that they were not hands but paws that securely wrapped a fluffy scarf around her neck. The figure that the paws belonged to spoke in a cheery, joyful tone but the words were lost in a garbled mess._

 

_Yet, she managed to laugh and pranced away from the figure whose tone was quickly becoming jokingly indignant and she opted to not inform them of the itchiness of the scarf they’d so lovingly crafted._

 

_Their friend chased after them in a hurry, calling out their name, begging them to slow down. She hated her name - it was ugly and tainted by the voices of the past - but when they said it it made her feel beautiful and she couldn’t help releasing a jubilant whoop to the air in triumph as she began to spin, forming a lazy badly-crafted pirouette that ended with her letting herself fall ungracefully into the soft snow._

 

_Giggles bubbled up out of her mouth and she could almost see them floating away into the heights of the Underground to burst with the echoes of her happiness. However, her dreamy musings were promptly halted as her friend hastily helped her up and patted the snow off of her clothing. Their worries were soon silenced as she gleefully sprung forward and wrapped them up in a hug, an action that they quickly returned with a conceding grin on their face._

 

_Idly, she wondered how long this would last then, as the weight of what she was mulling over hit, tightened her grip on her friend’s coat. She responded to their tentative worried enquiry with a forceful shake of her head and burrowed deeper into their jacket, savouring the warmth that they shared._

 

_Without a shred of a doubt, she thought decisively to herself, she would protect this if it was the last thing she did._

 

“Frisk?”

 

Frisk’s eyes shot open and she sat up quickly, an action that she soon regretted as a spell of dizziness overcame her. As soon as she managed to get her bearings, she turned round to the source of the voice, instinctively reaching up to brush away the frost and snow that’d gathered on her which had become a habit after her periods of time in the ‘cold’ had started to become more and more frequent.

 

She was painfully aware of the growing guilt at abandoning Sans at home in such a brusque manner but the cold had provided such a therapeutic treatment of numbing away all that seemed to hurt that she was drawing upon its uses much more frequently to the point that the chill lingered for hours after each session. Frisk hoped he hadn’t noticed her admittedly odd behaviour during those times though it was probably wishful thinking due to his damned perceptiveness; she knew he wouldn’t approve. However, all thoughts about Sans vanished when she laid her eyes on the owner of the voice and, strangely, so did the cold. She couldn’t help feeling the slightest bit disappointed when it withdrew from the depths of her mind but then she promptly ignored it, opting to turn her attentions to the golden flower that sat before her, a burst of a colour comically out of place in the snowy expanse.

 

“Asriel!” she exclaimed, her enthusiasm faltering just a little at the strange expression of his face. “Azzy? What’s wrong?”

 

Was it her imagination or had Asriel _flinched_?

 

“I…” Asriel paused, seemingly lost for words as he gave her a look that was nothing short of imploring but eventualy slumped over with a sigh and chanced a shaky smile.

 

“Frisk,” he said simply. “I’m glad you’re here.”

 

She let herself fall into a smile that felt only slightly strained and gently brushed her fingertips against his soft petals.

 

“Ditto,” she murmured. Subconsciously, she suppressed wave after wave of pressing question that were battling for dominance in her mind. What was he doing here? Where had he been? Why had he been ‘avoiding’ them, as Sans had said? Why did he have that strange look on his face? She pushed those thoughts aside. She’d known Asriel for years now. Firing away question after question wouldn’t do much other than annoying him or just force him to leave and, after weeks of not seeing any trace of him, Frisk was trying to make the most of the situation. So she opted to take it slow and address the most important questions first.

 

“Where’ve you been? After all _this_ happened-” Frisk paused to gesture around. “-you just disappeared!”

 

“I had some things to do,” he said shortly. Frisk internally groaned. Yet another vague placeholder substituting an actual response. She was getting used to it and that frustrated her to no end. Her irritation must’ve showed on her face because Asriel gave a quick laugh.

 

“What’s with that face?”

 

“Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of speculative answers like those. Courtesy of a certain skeleton,” she added at Asriel’s enquiring look. “He doesn’t tell me anything,” she huffed indignantly.

 

“I wouldn’t imagine he would,” he pulled a face and looked away resentfully.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Frisk frowned and leant her head on her hand.

 

“You’re just like him,” she sighed to herself then chuckled at her friend’s mortified response. “Sorry. But I’m right, aren’t I?”

 

“Are you?” he shot back, his tone just a little too put off.

 

“You’re both so…” her voice trailed off and she shot him a peculiar smile. “There isn’t a word for it.”

 

“Is it a good word?”

 

“I want it to be,” she shrugged and feigned indifference. “You’re both so closed off. You’re keeping me away from something that I don’t know and it feels like you’re wrapping me up in bubblewrap but you’re actually just smothering me in it.”

 

She stopped to eye Asriel who was currently staring at her pitifully and she took a deep breath.

 

“Why are you here, Asriel?”

 

“What?” he gave a her a puzzled look.

 

“Why are you here?” she repeated. “You’ve been gone for so long and now you’re here. Why? What do you need me to do?”

 

“You don’t need to do a thing!” he replied automatically. “It’s me who…”

He trailed off awkwardly but she knew not to speak and sat before him in silence, patiently waiting for him to continue. Frisk eyed him stoically and resisted the urge to comfort his drooping form that suddenly seemed not as comical but more sullen in the snow..

 

“I want to help you,” he finally said. “I want to help you and Sans find a way to get things back to the way they were. Honest!” he added desperately, prompting her to chuckle.

 

“I’m not doubting you, Asriel,” she said and she wasn’t. She was hoping that for once, she could trust someone not to deceive her. It was a simple enough request and even if that nagging feeling at the back of her mind told her that he might have other plans, on the whole she was just glad to have her friend back. Besides, they needed the extra help. Expectant, she held out her arm for him to wrap around. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

 

Soon enough, he had uprooted himself and secured himself around her shoulder by his roots, obviously relieved at her acceptance and shot her a grateful look as he did. After she was sure he wouldn’t fall off, she pushed herself to her feet, grabbed her backpack which was lying nearby in the snow and tramped away down the path, humming a soft tune to herself as Asriel shifted so he would lean comfortably against her neck.

 

“Are you okay?” he uttered out of the blue and Frisk instinctively reached up to pet him comfortingly.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little cold,” she muttered and technically, she was telling the truth, for the cold was beginning to creep back into her thoughts and she was more than welcoming for the tranquility it brought. “What about you? Are you okay?”

 

Asriel leaned into her touch but seem to shift uncomfortably as he did.

 

“I will be.”

 

“Still unsure?”

 

“Kind of.”

 

“Don’t worry,” she said determinedly and somehow the words felt familiar.

 

“I’ll make sure to protect you.”

 

\--

As Sans slammed the door behind him, an echo resounded through the room and he looked over the lip of the second floor to see Frisk locking the door behind her.

 

“Frisk? What are you doing here?” Sans’ brows knitted together as he glanced at his watch. She shouldn’t have been back until a few hours later, at the very least, and the realisation that there was someone who was attempting to work against him on the other side of his feeble bedroom door was getting increasingly more panic-inducing. Frisk swivelled around to answer and, as she did, Sans locked eyes with Flowey who was perched on her shoulder.

 

Great. Now he was outnumbered.

 

Whoop-de-freaking-doo.

 

“I came back early,” Frisk answered as she shook the snow off her boots, oblivious to the glaring contest that was happening around her. “Don’t worry; I still got plenty of data.”

 

“Yeah, I noticed,” Sans resisted the urge to snarl. “ I see you’ve also found Flowey.”

 

“Asriel,” she corrected and gave him a disparaging look. “And, to be honest, it was more like he found me.”

 

At Sans’ silence she looked up and added, “He wants to help.”

 

“Help?”

 

“Yeah, he wants to assist us in fixing this mess,” Frisk gave him a look that dared him to argue with her. “We need the extra help anyways.”

 

“What can a flower do that I can’t do better?” Sans winced at his tone. It had come out far more petulant than he had intended it to be.

 

“From what I know, you can’t be in two places at once,” Frisk said as she dumped her back near the couch.

 

“Debateable.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him and pulled a face.

 

“He’ll keep me company, Sans. I need the support since you’re not there anymore.”

 

“Besides, I know much more about space and time alterations,” Flowey added and Sans hated him for being right. “I can contribute to your notes as well, Sans.”

 

“I really do want to help,” he finished after a pause. They regarded each other for a few seconds before Sans gave a long, deliberating sigh. It wasn’t as if he actually had a say in the matter. Even if he said no, Frisk would still keep him around. The only difference would be the addition of a pissed-off Frisk and, honestly, he’d had enough of upsetting her. So, he decided at length, as long as he could keep an eye on them, he’d allow it. Allow it. Oh god, what had he come to when he was thinking like he was her goddamned father?

 

“Whatever,” he finally conceded as he made his way down the stairs. “Doesn’t make much of a difference to me anyway.”

 

Frisk beamed and, after gently putting Flowey down on the sidetable, rushed to wrap Sans up in a swift embrace. He let himself enjoy it even as he sent a warning look Flowey’s way to which he replied extremely maturely by poking his tongue out at him. His worries were quickly pushed to the side though as Frisk held just a little bit tighter and breathed deeply.

 

“Thank you. I needed this,” she whispered and Sans didn’t know whether she was referring to him allowing Flowey to stay or their hug but it didn’t matter because he was just focusing on hugging her back. He had missed her far too much.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered quietly and he heard the muffled sound of her laugh.

 

“Yeah,” she answered and then she let go. Sans watched as she rapidly disappeared into the kitchen then turned his attention to the golden flower that was pointedly looking away from him. He feigned indifference as best as he could as he strolled up to the flower that was attempting to surreptitiously inch away.

 

“So, what, come to join your partner in crime?” he said as soon as he was close enough to him that Frisk wouldn’t hear. Flowey shot him a scornful look and huffed.

 

“Gaster doesn’t have partners. You should know that better than anyone else, Sans,” he answered bluntly. “And if it’s any consolation, I didn’t come here for Gaster. I came here for a reminder.”

 

“A reminder of what?”

 

“A reminder of the reason I’m fighting.”

 

Sans didn’t say a word, opting to just hold Flowey’s steady gaze for a few moments. After a short pause, he leaned against the wall, drew out a cigarette from the box he kept in his pocket and exhaled.

 

“I still don’t like you,” Sans muttered as he lit his cigarette with a spark conjured by a click of his fingers and Flowey snorted.

 

“Believe me, the feeling’s mutual.”

 

“Ah, don’t be a drag,” he smirked as he purposefully flicked some cigarette ash towards the flower, his grin widening as he watched Flowey recoil in horror.

 

“Get that filth away from me!” he hissed as he fervently batted away the clouds of ash that were beginning to settle around him.

 

“I’d say it isn’t too bad but I’d hate to lead you ashtray.”

 

“Do you ever stop?” he jeered at the skeleton who wore an obnoxious grin on his face.

 

“What can I say? You lit my fuse,” Sans’ grin widened as he heard Flowey groan in frustration and took a long draught on his cigarette. Abruptly, the light in Sans’ eyes were swallowed up by the darkness and his voice became dangerously low.

 

“Jokes aside, _brat,_ if you try anything that seems the slightest bit suspicious, if you put one leaf out of place, if you look at her wrong, if you freaking _breathe_ out of turn, I’ll burn you alive in the slowest and most excruciating way possible,” he growled gutturally, taking pride in the way the flower seemed to shrink away. “Is that clear?”

 

“ _Crystal_.”

 

“Good to know we understand each other then,” Sans patted Flowey on his head roughly, his eye no longer obscured by a void and his tone obnoxiously cheery,  and idly strolled away. Just as Flowey pulled a face at his retreating form, Sans glanced back, smiling malicously as the flower shot back stiffly into place.

 

“Enjoy your stay,” he whispered malevolently.

* * *

 

Sans was beginning to regret telling Flowey to ‘enjoy his stay’ since it seemed as if he was taking the comment as a personal challenge. The skeleton looked on despondently as Frisk and Flowey churned up the snow together, laughing in a way that seemed to be purposefully directed at him. It was a ridiculous notion but Sans couldn’t help feeling that way as he stood to the side, awkwardly aware of his presence as a third wheel.

 

Sans sighed for the nth time and wondered how he’d roped himself into this mess.

 

That morning, just like always, Frisk was leaving for the echo flowers, but this time she had an annoying flower latched onto her. With Frisk insisting that she bring Flowey along because what _else_ would he do, Sans, he’s already stayed cooped up inside with you for the past two days, Sans had relented but only on the condition that he would come as well. Even with Flowey giving him the most patronising and pitying look imaginable, he’d managed to keep his temper out of control and had walked alongside them for the first hour or so when they actually managed to get work done. But he supposed that these antics were the only sensible result when they hadn’t seen each other for weeks on end. Plus, it wasn’t like him to harp on about slackers.

 

He didn’t know why but it irked him.

 

That being said, they _were_ being ridiculous. Expending all that energy, messing up all that nice pristine snow, when they could be relaxing in the cool shade of one of the pine trees and taking a nap.

 

_Honestly._

 

Nevertheless, he watched aimlessly as Frisk frolicked like a newborn lamb and Flowey laughed gleefully, sprouting up here and there through the snow like an especially irritating target in a game of whack - a - mole. He guessed they earned a break. Frisk had been working non-stop for the past few weeks and he had made sure to work Flowey to the figurative bone during the two days they had to work together on his notes. Disappointingly, Flowey’s input had provided to be measly at the very best seeing as he didn’t have much aptitude in the scientific nature of time travel and their conversations were often wrought with frustration and irritability. However, he had learned something new; the time jumps that had seemed to irrationally skip over huge time periods could be caused by ‘hacking’. Besides the SAVE feature that Sans and Flowey had both become accustomed with, Flowey knew of a technique to do with going into the ‘files’ as he put it that made up their world and altering them to fit whims. Sans had filed away that morsel of information for another time; while it was was only a possible explanation for this situation, that knowledge would no doubt come in handy later. Sans’ train of thought was incidentally interrupted by a splodge of snow hitting him square in the face. As he wiped it off, seething as he caught sight of Flowey doubled over in snide laughter and Frisk standing nearby, menacingly juggling a few snowballs, he nearly didn’t notice the abnormality.

 

Nearly.

 

He stared curiously at the snow he held in his hand and scooped up some more in the other, just to make sure that was he was feeling was real.

 

For some inexplicable reason, the snow was warm.

 

And not a disagreeable, sweaty, warm but a comfortable, cosy warm that brought to mind an old memory of snuggling with Papyrus under a warm blanket on a cold night. Sans shook off the snow distractedly and gave an enquiring look to Frisk as he gestured towards it.

 

“I know!” she nodded enthusiastically. “Isn’t it cool?”

 

“I’d say it’s more warm than anything but hey, you do you, kid.”

 

“You know what I mean, Sans,” she groused, the bite in her words lessened by the accommodating smile she wore, and she let her snowballs fall to the ground in lieu of making her way towards him.

 

He grunted absent-mindedly as he cast a cursory look around their surroundings.

 

“Doesn’t seem like these anomalies are letting up,” he remarked to no one in particular. “What kind of universe switches the properties of basic elements like snow?”

 

He tapped the bone near the crack in his skull inattentively. Perhaps the universe where everyone’s personalities seemed to be swapped? No, Frisk’s entries about that world hadn’t mentioned anything about swapped properties. A side effect maybe? That was the most plausible explanation and that’s what he’d used to pass off the changed properties of the lava in Hotland but it still frustrated him to no end that he was basing most of his knowledge of assumptions.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I’m just thinking, kid. Don’t wo-” Sans swivelled around to respond to Frisk’s question but stopped mid-sentence when he took in the sight of her drenched form. “What the hell happened to you?”

 

She laughed at his reaction and involuntarily shivered at the same time.

 

“It’s warm but it isn’t dry,” she answered with a regretful smile. “It still melts and when you’ve been rolling around in warm snow for the past half an hour or so...well, let’s just say I should’ve brought a towel.”

 

Sans tsked disapprovingly and promptly clicked his fingers, summoning a wave of heat to simultaneously dry her off and send a storm of water droplets Flowey’s way. Pointedly ignoring the latter’s indignant protests, he smirked to himself and looked back at Frisk who was gandering at herself in surprise.

 

“Well,” she said simply. “That’s convenient.”

 

“Magic usually is. Too bad you don’t know any,” he observed teasingly as he brushed past her.

 

“You could always teach me,” she commented as she hurried after him. Sans tensed imperceptibly.

 

“Not happening.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You do plenty of miracles just by being yourself, kid. Wouldn’t want to give you more of an advantage than you already have,” he answered, grinning at her flushed response. He admitted that there was that, but also the fact that he didn’t know if humans could even learn magic and, if Chara managed to take control of Frisk once again, the thought of a genocidal maniac like her wielding magic was terrifying. However, he kept his thoughts to himself and, when his eyes met with Flowey’s, he gave him a look to make sure he did as well. “Besides, I’m bone-tired. Don’t have the guts to do such a skele-ton of work.”

 

“Weak,” she retorted, pouting with her arms crossed.

 

“Ah, throw me a bone here. C’mon, try tibia good sport,” he joked placatingly as she gave a long-suffering sigh.  

 

“You’re awful.”

 

“So I’ve been told,” he shrugged as he relaxed against the trunk of a nearby tree. He was just about to settle down when a violent flash of white struck the earth before him with a deafening crack.

 

“What the f-” he began but his words were drowned out as another blast zapped out of nowhere and stabbed into the ground. “ _Lightning?!_ ”

 

Mouth agape, he shoved Frisk back from the crack in the ground that was swiftly growing wider and wider and stood between them as he witnessed something akin to the armageddon.

 

A final bolt of light smashed into the ground and the three of them stared in terrified awe as it seemed to flare and spread, gaining more and more height, until all they could see before them was a blinding wall of firestorm. The section of earth that had been separated from them by the crack gave an ear-splitting crash and suddenly, the ground was simply falling away, breaking apart from the bigger landmass as if it were part of an otherworldly shift. As soon as it had come, the wall of light had disappeared, leaving burning imprints on the back of their eyelids, and the three of them were introduced to a new spectacle to gawk at. Before them lay an endless expanse of void. The light hadn’t only taken the ground; it had taken away everything else as well. In the distance they could make out the blurry image of land beginning once more. It was as if something had just taken a bite out of the Underground and the three of them exchanged looks that contained variations of shock, terror and utmost confusion. However, their questions did not remain unanswered as, with a deafening roar signalling its appearance, a new slab of land that was conveniently the exact size needed to fill the glaring hole in the Underground scraped into view.

 

Scraped, Sans thought as he glared fixedly at the piece of land that was rapidly travelling towards them, amidst clouds of dust and gravel that shot out violently towards them. There was friction affecting the rather literal landslide and that meant there was another element here at play. He was beginning to develop an idea on what was happening and, all in all, he was rather captivated by it all. But his heart went cold as he caught sight of a figure wobbling atop the slab, struggling to keep their footing amongst the rumbling movements of the earth. A figure who, judging by the red eyes and the familiar black fur-lined jacket that had a deathly layer of dust covering it, was unfortunately the worst person imaginable to come across in a collision of universes.

 

Instinctively, he backed away and, as he chanced a glance backwards, the others were doing the same. He locked eyes with Asriel and the terror he saw in them matched his own.

 

 _‘This is what you want her to be!’_ he wanted to bellow at him but he tore away his attention from the flower and looked back at Chara who was almost at eye-level now and - oh, god - she was _smiling,_ she was reaching out and - wait, what the _hell_ was she doing? In his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of Frisk stepping forward, unheeding of Flowey’s cries of protest and his roots wrapping around her ankles, and doing the same.

 

“No! Don’t touch them! You can’t!” he shouted over the clamour as he yanked her back in a fit of panic. She fell towards him with a yelp and gave him a desperately pleading look.

 

“Sans, they could help!”

 

Distracted, he only managed to notice Chara in time due to Flowey’s horrified scream and he swiftly whirled around, compulsively summoning a gigantic gaster blaster to his side. The blaster released a beam of screaming light and it hit Chara’s body full on, ripping the knife out of her grasp and propelling her cleanly off the edge of the crumbling ground even as the ray of power obliterated her body.

 

The last thing Sans saw before he teleported them all back home was the haunting sight of Chara doing nothing but smiling knowingly as she was torn to shreds.

 

\--

“What the...why…”

 

Frisk stumbled away from Sans, mind reeling and hands shaking. They’d left the scene and yet it still seemed like everything was falling apart. Nearby, Asriel had clambered onto a table and was shuddering vehemently while Sans seemed intent on locking and securing every possible opening in the house.

 

“You couldn’t have touched them. It would’ve torn the very fabric of time and space apart,” he answered the question she hadn’t yet asked without turning around, his voice low and frightening.

 

“But you...you killed her.”

 

The image of the gaster blaster beam savagely tearing her other self into pieces shoved itself into her mind and it took all she had to keep herself from vomiting.

 

“She would’ve died anyway from our universe’s clash. I just sped up the process.”

 

Frisk glared at him in incredulity. How could he sound so detached, so unfeeling when he’d just killed someone?

 

“That isn’t the full story though, is it?” she interrogated, the image of Sans’ face overcome by fury, terror and self-serving triumph still fresh in her mind. When she’d seen him conjure up that humongous monstrosity, had it been her imagination or had he been relishing the kill? “It can’t be.”

 

“And what if it is?” he abruptly wheeled around and grabbed her by the shoulders, his grip biting painfully into her skin. “Our top priority is saving the others. At the very least, she was a distraction. And what were you thinking, reaching out to her like that?” he accused.

 

“I…” she was momentarily speechless because, at that moment, she didn’t know what to say. There was no answer at the ready for she honestly had no idea why she had reached out to her other self, only that when she saw her, the cold inside her _sang_ . She shoved the thought aside. She had other things to say. “She could’ve been me, Sans! No, scratch that, she _was_ me. And you didn’t hesitate at all when you...when you…”

 

Sans grip on her relented for a second and she took the opportunity to stagger away, hand over her mouth as she struggled to keep the bile in.

 

“She wasn’t you,” he muttered and his decisive tone infuriated her beyond measure.

 

“Yes, Sans, she was!” she snapped, eyes flashing. “She had my hair, my face, my clothes; who else could she be but myself? You said it yourself. I’m a constant! That was me and...you just destroyed her!”

 

“You don’t understand! I had to kill her!” Sans' voice was leaden with unresolved frustration bearing on the brink of restraint but Frisk took no heed.

 

“You didn’t  _ have _ to do anything!” Frisk took a step forward, her brow taut with anger, and spat out her words. “Nobody has ever  _ had _ to kill anyone. They’ve always made the choice. And you did too. Sans, just…”

 

She paused, shielding her eyes with her hand as a tremble wormed its way into her voice.

 

“Haven’t you learned anything?” she croaked out pleadingly. For a moment there, the only sound in the room was Frisk's pathetic sniffling but then-

 

“Oh, trust me.  _ I’ve learned plenty. _ ”

 

Something in his tone made her eyes widen and shoot up to meet his then immediately regret it. Sans levelled an icy glare her way, his eyes narrow and his hands clenched into tight fists. Unbidden, she took a tentative step backwards. Something was wrong.

 

“I’ve gotten a first-hand education on how naive you really are,” he bit out and the words  _ stung.  _ “You must think that the world runs on happy fumes but that ain’t the case, kid. It’s about give and take here. Compromise, kid, ever heard of it? An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. A soul for a soul.”

 

Sans’ voice took on the feeling something foreign and a chill ran up Frisk’s spine.

 

“Although…” Sans looked up at her and the unsettling smile he wore didn’t quite reach his eyes. “...this one seems to be far more trouble than she’s worth.”

 

He was strolling up to her now and with every step he took towards her, she took another away from him. Lost, Frisk shot a panicked glance Asriel’s way but he wasn’t focusing on her. No, he was staring at Sans with an expression that was a mix between harsh incredulity and fear.

 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You  _ are  _ human, aren’t you? Reaping destruction is what you do. It’s your default setting.”

 

She was backed up against the wall and now the panic was rising, leaving jittery trembles in its wake.

 

“Don’t-” she began but her mouth snapped shut in a jolt as Sans slammed his hand right next to her head. Normally, he was barely taller than her but suddenly he was looming over her with that awful,  _ chilling _ smile and was it her imagination or were the cracks in his skull spreading?

 

“You must love this, right? Toying with us, preaching that pacifist garbage just so we can lower our guard and you can tear us to pieces.” Sans’ eyes were endless pits of darkness and as Frisk stared back at him in frozen terror, unblinking. She was drowning in them. Something deep inside cried out to her but she didn’t respond. “That’s why we’re still down here. That’s why you didn’t break the barrier.”

 

“We-we aren’t ready-” Frisk responded shakily.

 

“You think I’m just going to believe that?” he bellowed, his fingers digging into the plaster of the wall. “What gives you  the right to keep us here? What gives you the authority? Why are you the one who decides?”

 

A silence hung between them, thick and suffocating, as Frisk focused on steadfastly not looking at the skeleton that stood before her. 

 

“Well, no matter,” he murmured as the rustle of cloth signalled him backing off and she pointedly relaxed. “This’ll be over soon, anyway.”

 

Then suddenly, his hands were around her neck and she was being lifted off the floor and there was no more air. 

 

“After all, if you die, this whole thing reloads, doesn’t it?”

 

And just like that, panic took hold. This wasn’t the Sans she knew. This was somebody else. And he _ terrified _ her. As she thrashed fruitlessly in his grip, she stared in horror as the darkness in his eyes bled, spilled out and spread to coalesce into this wavering, flickering mass of...fire.

 

Sans was burning black.

 

And she had no more time to comprehend what that meant as the grip on her neck was tightening and black spots were appearing in her vision. Somewhere far away, she heard him mutter shortly, “No hard feelings, kid. It’s just that you need to take responsibility. You caused this problem so you should fix it as well.” but by then her mind was no longer hers, her eyes were burning and her limbs were falling limp. Then there was a grunt and she was falling to the floor and everything was skewed. As she rolled over, her vision sharpened just enough to see Sans bring up a wall of black fire to destroy the second barrage of white bullets sent his way. As his flames fell away, they revealed a skeleton who wore a stormy expression, who practically seethed with fury that was currently directed towards a certain golden flower. Asriel stood, a shadowy expression contorting his features, with a hailstorm of white projectiles and crossed barbs suspended in the air around him. The air crackled with sparks of magic and it was only then that Frisk realised that the entire room was buzzing with power. 

 

“What are you doing?” Sans hissed and it was disconcerting how much rage was laced within such small words. Asriel shrugged, an admirable feat seeing as he didn’t have shoulders, and the pellets around him jittered in unison. 

 

“Stopping you from doing something you’ll regret. Although it seems I’ve intervened just a little too late. What do you think?” he added casually as he pointedly glanced back at Frisk who was shakily getting to her feet. Puzzled, Sans spun round to meet her and, when his eyes landed upon her, it was as if he was seeing her for the first time. 

 

Almost immediately, the fire sputtered out and colour drained from his face. His rage melted away and was replaced by something a lot more raw and tremble shuddered its way through his form. He reached up to tentatively run a finger over the cracks in his skull and his hand came away dripping black. 

 

“So,” Asriel stated simply and Sans’ breath hitched dangerously. “What happened to SAVING people?”

  
And then he was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S I just realised I hit 100 kudos! Thank you so much, guys! I really don't think I'd even have kept on writing this without the tremendous amount of support I've received so seriously guys, thank you.
> 
> Edit: Long-term readers will probably be able to tell that I altered the ending to this chapter. I'm really sorry if you liked the previous ending but I feel like this one makes it a lot easier for me to continue the story. So yeah, past ending has been completely retconned.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, guys! I know there always such huge gaps between updates but this time I have an excuse. Exams were awful and exhausting but they're done and so is this. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Next one's gonna be a helluva ride!
> 
> Note: To all of those who are confused or thrown off by the weird beginning, go back to the last chapter 'cause I changed the ending for that one.

The moment his feet found purchase on solid ground, Sans fell to his knees, shuddering. A particular violent tremble wracked his body and he shook under the weight of it, hacking up black blood that stained the dark soil underneath. Somewhere insignificant, he realised he’d fled to Waterfall, but the thought was lost underneath the maelstrom of chaos that battled through his mind. Externally, he was unmoving, silent, but his wide unfocused eyes betrayed the fear inside. Sans had felt _his_ presence long before he made a physical appearance, so when the shadowy figure materialized before him with his signature ‘ _vwoop_ ’ , he was ready.

 

“What did you do?” Sans’ voice shook, mirroring the status of his own flickering eye. “What did you do?!”

 

“ **NoThIng YoU HAdN’t AlreADy ConSidEreD YouRSElf**.”

 

Sans’ head shot up and he drew himself up to his full height, expression thunderous, as he dared his former mentor to say more. Gaster eyed him, amused, before he surreptitiously clicked his fingers and promptly extinguished the flame that blazed in Sans’ eye socket, watching with a clinical satisfaction as Sans flinched in response.

 

“ **AM i WronG?** ”

 

For a second, Sans held his piercing gaze, eyes narrowed into furious slits, but finally looked away, guilt lining his features.

 

“What is happening to me?” he whispered.

 

“ **YoU ArE bEcomInG UnSTable** ,” Gaster answered, his tone painfully unfeeling. “ **An EffECt CausEd FroM ClOSe ProXImiTY to A cOLLiSion BetWEeN ReaLitIEs ThAt WaS MaGnIFIED bY my InflUEnCe.** ”

 

“Your _influence_ ,” Sans nearly spat out the words. “ Damn your influence. It’s far more trouble than it’s worth.”

 

 **“NEed I RemInD You THAt My SuppoSEDly-CURsED InfLUENCE IS The REaSon Why YoU aRE stiLL herE?** ” Gaster lurched forward and, suddenly, Sans couldn’t move. “ **IT WAs Not My InfLuEnce thaT leD yOU To ThosE ThouGhtS. PlaCe the BLaME wHerE it IS DuE.** ”

 

Gaster’s tendrils of void slithered away and Sans was left gasping, struggling to keep his composure as he glared at the former royal scientist’s retreating back.

 

“What gave you the right to peek into my mind anyway, huh? Ever heard of privacy?”

 

“ **YoUr MinD iS miNe And My MiNd is YourS. ThERe Are NO rigHTS to Be BreaChed In AccordaNcE to Your Own MentAl FraMe.** ”

 

“Since when do we share a mind? How come I don’t hear your thoughts?”

 

“ **mY menTAL bARRicAdes PRevEnT YoU FRom hEAring TheM. YoUR meNtaL ShiELdS weRE sImPle To ByPAss** ,” he added, silencing any further questions Sans may have had.

 

“Gaster, back then...they were just thoughts. There was no need for you to act upon them!”

 

“ **I waS merelY SaVinG TImE. If I HAdn’t AcTed UpoN THem, yOu Would’Ve In YouR OWn Time**.”

 

“You can’t know that for sure!” Sans snapped back in retort, and let out a long-suffering sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was brittle with tried exhaustion. “You’re just making everything worse.”

 

Sans interpreted Gaster’s silence as a cue to continue and he obliged, features hardening into something far more harsh as he did.

 

“These echo flowers are running circles around me with these visions, I’m not getting anywhere and because of your _influence_ , I-!” Sans cut himself short as he thought better of finishing that sentence. He took in a shuddering breath, eyes shut and fingers digging painfully into his palms, before he spoke again.

 

“I'm running out of time, Gaster. I know I am,” he whispered hoarsely. “And I don't know what to do.”

 

“ **oH, Sans** ,” came Gaster’s oddly soothing voice from behind him, his familiar, ethereal hands smoothly making their way around Sans’ neck.

 

“ **You have all the time you need**.”

 

Sans shoved him away, just as that calming chill was beginning to set in, and turned an accusing eye onto his former mentor.

 

“You know something, don’t you?”

 

“ **LiFe, oR perhAps thE lacK oF iT, in the VoId can be...ADvAntaGEous**.”

 

“What do you know?” Sans whispered, his eyes nothing more than accusing slits. “Tell me!”

 

“ **WhAt Use Is a TeSt if the TEachEr hanDs the StuDent the AnswERs?** ”

 

“Is this what this is? A test?” Sans snapped, his temper flaring once more. “Gaster, I don’t have time for your games!”

 

“ **I AssUre You Sans, THis Is by No mEans A gAme** ,” Gaster’s voice seemed to rattle endlessly in the dark recesses of Sans’ mind and he grimaced at the subsequent realisation that the scientist had probably meant for it to do so. “ **Now, TeLL me Of yOUr lateST PurSuitS.** ”

 

“Why? If we share the same mind, how come you don’t already know of them?”

 

“ **Do It. My PatiencE ruNs thiN.** ”

 

For a second, Sans considered defying him - if only for the sake of being difficult - but thought better of it. An annoyed Gaster was never good; their former days in the lab together had proven that many times.

 

“The visions,” he said flatly. “Frisk gets the visions, I try to make sense of them. Try to find some common ground between them. A constant to show why the echo flowers came here.”

 

“ **AnD?** ”

 

“And what?”

 

“ **HoW HaVE yoU ProGressed So fAr?** ”

 

Sans merely scowled in response. He wouldn’t verbally admit his lack of progress if he could help it. The shame was merely amplified because it was Gaster he was admitting it to. Gaster drew himself up, casting a shadow over Sans, and eyed him steadily.

 

“ **YoUr TraiN oF ThouGhT is UseLess** ,” he said simply. “ **YoU’ve WastEd yOur Time**.”

 

Sans instinctively bit back a retort and tried to keep his facial features blank. Absently, he wondered that, since they apparently shared a mind, could Gaster hear all the damning thoughts he was having about him? If he could, he didn’t show it - although that wasn’t exactly strange in itself. Gaster was a blank slate when he wanted to be.

 

“ **It SeeMS to HavE ComPLEtelY EscAped You ThAt ChanGing Your LiNe of InQuiRY May Be UseFul. I Am SoreLy DisAppoInteD in You**.”

 

“You say that as if that’s something new,” Sans muttered, but Gaster didn’t respond. Either he didn’t hear him or he didn’t care; Sans was willing to bet real money on the latter.

 

“ **HaS IT eVen OccuRRed To yoU ThaT thE FloWerS theMSelVes CouLd bE ThE Key?** ”

 

The underlying frustration in Gaster’s tone was almost palpable and yet Sans couldn’t understand why he was so furious. How was he supposed to know? Of course, he’d begun to entertain the prospect of studying the flowers themselves, but the recent events had kept him occupied enough to keep himself to what he knew. In hindsight, probably not the best idea. Not that he’d ever admit it to Gaster. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as Gaster promptly shoved an echo flower into his line of sight.

 

“ **DissEct It.** ”

 

Sans gingerly took the flower from Gaster’s pale hand.

 

“Sepals, stigma, anthers, p-”

 

“ **No. ThauMaturgically**.”

 

Sans shot his mentor an icy glare before he begrudgingly complied. He mentally went through their components even as he spoke, his eye taking on a blue sheen as he peered at the flower held in his hand. Firstly, there were the petals which were imbued with a magic that allowed them to collect and then return a set of vocalised sounds which then flowed down the delicate strands of light into the core where the sound was stored and was used to emit a pale glow-

 

Wait. What?

 

Sans froze as he scrutinized the flower in his hand. Where the core should’ve shown a ball of blue mist with its corresponding set of audio attachments detailing the contents of their recording, it presented a sphere of bright flickering images with a set of numbers that seemed to judder in time to its accompanying unit. For a moment, he merely stared. Then he leapt into action, tearing off the petals and stripping away the stem, until all he held in his hand was the little ball of light.

 

“What the hell?” he exclaimed to no one in particular as he held it up to his eye. It was impossible to focus on any one image - they all seemed to leave far too quickly and his eye seemed to slide off the sphere whenever he looked at it directly - but he was willing to bet that Frisk wouldn’t have any trouble with it.

 

“ **As YoU HAve NotiCed, The ANomAly SeeMs To HaVe AltEred CerTaiN PropErties oF CerTaiN EleMents in OuR WoRld.** ”

 

Sans rolled the tiny ball aimlessly around his palm. It was cool and smooth to touch. Fluid.

 

“They’re little pockets of time,” he breathed in wonder even as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept. He could’ve slapped himself. How could he have missed this? The solution had been staring him in the face the entire time, yet he still hadn’t recognised it for what it was.

 

Sans’ mind raced as he turned over the numbers in his head. The orb he was currently holding was worth around - he paused to check - 10 minutes. However, hundreds, even thousands of these echo flowers had popped up around the Underground; if he managed to accumulate them, fuse them together…

 

The cogs were fitting into place, one by one and Sans was almost giddy with excitement, but he stopped short as he realised something crucial. A propellor. He needed a propellor. Something that could absorb the time and use it as a boost, to shove them back to a date when they could stop all of this from even happening in the first place.  But it wasn’t as if he had these sorts of things lying around the place, just waiting for an opportune moment to be used. Or…

 

He looked up, eyes wide, and stared straight at Gaster. He returned Sans’ gaze in full force, a knowing look gracing his features.

 

“The time machine.”

 

Sans was on his feet, pacing a circle into the ground as a grin spread over his features. He had a plan! He finally had a feasible plan and this way, he knew he’d be able to save them all. He was sure of it!

 

A thought occurred.

 

His grin fell.

 

“If they’re just pockets of time...” Sans whispered as he slowly turned around to meet Gaster’s expressionless gaze. “If they’re just pockets of time, why even bother with the visions?”

 

Gaster shot him a look that destroyed his good mood in an instant.

 

“ **PerHaps, You ShouLd Ask The REceiveR of ThesE VisIons FirsthanD. AfteR aLL, I am IN no PlaCe to DescRibe thEIr PrediCamEnt** ,” he uttered smoothly. “ **HOwEver, If I wEre To Make aN EducaTed EstImate, I wouLd imAGine tHat BeinG EndLessly BarraGed By A sEriEs oF MenTally-STraininG OrdeaLs wouLd noT Be AdVAntageOus foR thE PsyChe** . **ComBined WitH A SuppoSed MurDer-AtteMpt FroM A tRusted FriEnd…** ”

 

Gaster’s voice took on a venomous undertone and Sans could feel his blood run cold.

 

“ **ThE GirL iS PriMe for ThE TakiNG**.”

 

\--

 

When Frisk finally found him, Sans was in Waterfall.

 

After a shameful moment of considering not going after him, Frisk had bolted out the door, unheeding of Asriel’s half-hearted attempts at staying her. The very thought of not going to find Sans was unthinkable; she knew a cry for help when she saw one, and Sans’ face had been borderline pleading.

 

However, at the 30 minute mark, she was honestly considering going back home and waiting for him there. She hadn’t taken a coat when she had left, a move that was admittedly stupid considering how the weather had been on the fritz lately, and by the time half an hour had passed her teeth were chattering so loud it echoed in her skull. But when she saw Sans, standing silently at the brink of a high cliff, all her discomfort was replaced by the desperate need to get him away from that edge.

 

Nonetheless, she let herself near him slowly. She knew that he knew she was there - she had seen the nearly imperceptible twitch of his shoulders when she’d stepped onto the same ledge - but she really didn’t want to do anything stupid that could spur him into taking a step back. She shouldn’t have worried though. As soon as she had finished with her line of thought, Sans turned around and strode towards her purposefully, a huge grin that didn’t fool anybody in the vicinity plastered on his face.

 

“Yo.”

 

“Sans...your soul,” Frisk gasped as she took in the sight of the floating white heart hovering just in front of his chest. It wasn’t anything new - she’d heard the stories of it making an appearance after particularly bad nightmares from Papyrus - but it was still a shock to see it and to know that _she_ was the cause of it.

 

“Well, isn’t that a surprise?” Sans exclaimed and the flippancy in his tone terrified Frisk beyond any threat. With a click of his fingers, the skeleton transformed the white heart into a blue one and, with an offhand flick, brought it to float just above his hand. “Now I can finally say that I’m one to wear my heart on my sleeve.”

 

He paused, waiting.

 

“What, nothing? Tough crowd.”

 

Frisk could’ve slapped him.

 

“Are - are you okay?” she asked, her words leaden by worry. Sans’ grin faltered for a second before he let his soul return to its spot in front of his chest and laughed shortly.

 

“You’re asking me? I think you’ve got this skewed, kid.  You’re the one with red burns around their neck,” he replied bitterly.

 

Instinctively, Frisk reached for her neck and immediately regretted it as Sans looked away, his expression hidden by an overlying shadow.

 

“It doesn’t hurt.”

 

“Like hell it doesn’t! I might only have one eye but I’m not frigging blind!” Sans snapped forcefully only to immediately temper his tone into something a lot more tired. “I...I hurt you again, didn’t I?”

 

“Again?”

 

For a second, Sans studied her fixedly, his brow furrowed by an emotion she couldn’t name, but eventually shook his head and scuffed his boots on the pebbled ground.

 

“Forget about it, kid.”

 

Frisk bit her lip in frustration but said nothing, opting to step forward and take his hand in hers. Almost instantly, Sans yanked it away.

 

“Kid, just stop. You’re afraid. I can feel you shaking.”

 

She wished she could tell him that it was because she really _really_ needed him away from the edge, but she knew he wouldn’t believe her. So she tried again.

 

“Kid, please.”

 

And again.

 

“Kid.”

 

Once more.

 

“Frisk, just-!” Sans froze, eyes widening, as she thrust his hands around her neck. When he spoke up once more, his voice was raspy. “What are you doing? Frisk, let me go.”

 

She held his gaze steadily.

 

“Frisk,” he repeated, this time a lot more urgently.

 

She took a deep breath and let a gentle smile spread over her features.

 

“You’re not hurting me.”

 

“Did - ” Sans paused in confusion. “Did you expect me to?”

 

Frisk led his hands away from her neck and let one fall while holding onto the other tightly.

 

“Nope. Not really,” she shot him a smile and squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Let’s go for a walk.”

 

And so they did.

 

Frisk led Sans back through the area and towards the huge waterfall, all the while blatantly ignoring his offers of teleportation by singing obnoxiously annoying songs over him whenever he brought up the topic. At some point he resigned himself to his fate and joined her in chorus, much to her annoyance and secret glee. Along the way, they came across a patch of daisies that had appeared as one of the numerous side effects of universe collisions. Without missing a beat, Frisk picked up two daisies and slid them into the openings of the cracks in Sans’ skull and giggled at the comical sight.

 

“What a pretty princess.”

 

Sans glanced at the two flowers overshadowing his face disparagingly and levelled a sardonic look at his companion.

 

“What kind of princess wears this sort of getup?” he said, gesturing to his monochrome-based clothes. Frisk snorted in response.

 

“Really? So it’s not the cracks in your head or the holes in your hands or even the smoking thing that offsets the princess imagery, but your choice in fashion?”

 

“Good point.”

Despite his complaints, Sans left the flowers in their spot in his skull long after they had left the daisy patch behind them.

 

When the waterfall finally came into view, Sans couldn’t help himself from whistling appreciatively. The entire waterfall had frozen in an instant, the icebound rippling dynamics of the water leaving sleek furrows in its otherwise pristine and glassy surface. Not only that, but a huge chunk of rock of the walkway before them had seemingly disappeared, effectively creating a rocky outcrop that looked out over the never-ending fields of echo flowers. In the middle of the valley, the land dipped down into a lake, the echo flowers sinking into its murky depths. If he strained his eyes, Sans could even see the signature aqua glow that peered up from the darkness which seemed to replace the lake’s bottom with a shroud of mystery. Beyond the lake, the echo flowers continued into the distance until it merely blurred together into the horizon, their collective blue glow casting eerie shadows on the surrounding walls of the purple tinged cavern.

 

“Since when do we have a lake here?”

 

“Since a few days ago. I’m pretty sure it appeared with the latest crash.”

“How will you get the visions outta those? I could be wrong, but I don’t think that humans can breathe underwater.”

 

“Dunno yet,” she shrugged. “I’ve been looking through the garbage dump for some diving gear but nothing suitable’s turned up yet. What?” she added at his nonplussed expression. “How do you think I find the tools to get up to higher spaces, huh?”

 

“You could’ve always just asked me for help. It’s not as if moving people around is hard for me to do.”

 

Frisk’s smile lost a bit of its shine and she cast her eyes to the ground.

 

“Yeah, well,” she mumbled. “You were preoccupied.”

 

“Oh,” he managed to say as a wave of awkwardness washed over them. “Right.”

 

Wordlessly, Frisk sat herself down on the edge of the rocky outcrop and patted the ground next to her, gesturing for Sans to do the same. As her companion settled into his position beside her, Frisk breathed deeply and plopped her head in her hands.

 

“Everything’s so different,” she murmured quietly. Nearby, Sans produced a cigarette and placed it between his teeth but didn’t light it.

 

“You just noticed?” he groused from around his cigarette.

 

“I’m just acknowledging it,” she replied as she dangled her legs over the edge of the rock. “You know, I’m pretty sure I’m doing all of this wrong.”

 

Sans glanced at her in puzzlement.

 

“You aren’t just Sans anymore. And this world isn’t just ours anymore. But I’m still acting as if it is.”

 

And, as she reaffirmed to herself once more, that was a problem.

 

Because the Sans she knew didn’t smoke or tower above her or wear clothes that would make any decent punk jealous. The Sans she knew didn’t have cracks in his skull or holes in his hand or only one eye. The Sans she knew was no longer here, and maybe that was why this problem was even happening.

 

Because this Sans was someone completely different and she still treated him like someone he wasn’t. He was entirely foreign - from the way his face flushed from embarrassment when she complimented him to the way he held her hand so carefully it was as if he thought she was about to break.

 

She didn’t have history with this Sans. Of course she didn’t; she’d only been in this situation for a month or so while she had lived with the former Sans for the better part of her life. So that would mean she’d have to temper her expectations accordingly. This uncertainty; it was something that would’ve come up sooner or later. It was just as well that she was addressing the matter now.

 

“Frisk? You still with me?” Sans snapped his fingers in front of her eyes, effectively breaking her out of her reverie. “You okay?”

 

She chanced a comforting smile. At least she knew he cared.

 

 _Well, it isn’t really the issue of if he cares, since it’s pretty obvious he does,_ she thought. _It’s the question of_ why _he cares that’s important._

 

“Yeah. Still here,” she replied. “I guess what I’m trying to propose here is...a reset.”

 

“What?”

 

“Let’s start over,” she stated firmly then immediately backtracked as she realised what she was saying. “Not literally since I can’t do that anymore but-”

 

“Wait, what? You can’t reset?” he questioned and there was an incredulity there that surprised her.

 

“Nope,” she said. “I don’t know why, but I can’t load or save or reset. Not anymore. Why do you think we’re still in this mess? If I had the ability, don’t you think I’d have tried by now?”

 

Frisk remembered trying to reload the moment she’d realised what had happened and the surprise that had ensued after she was met with nothing but a blank menu. It had been a struggle to get over the subsequent shock that came with the comprehension that she no longer had control over her timeline, but she had managed it and had thrown herself into getting out the situation the manual way with an indestructible enthusiasm. And, now that she’d come to terms with that, she was just the slightest bit miffed that Sans would’ve thought that she still had that ability after all this time. Did he think she _enjoyed_ being in this mess?

 

“So that means…if you died, what would happen?” Sans ventured and the tentative tone interlaced in his words let her know to step carefully from here on out.

 

“I - I uh - I don’t know. I guess the same thing that happens to anybody else when they die.”

 

“Oh,” he whispered and she could _see_ the guilt hollowing out his features with each passing second.

 

“Sans,” she blurted out, desperate to steer them away from this topic. “Sans, I want to wipe the slate clean. Or maybe just, at the very least, scrub a bit of the muck off.”

 

She glanced at him, searching for a response, but was only met with silence. With a soft sigh, she continued on anyways.

 

“When you’re alone there’s plenty of time to think and, lately, I’ve been alone a lot. And whether you notice it or not, things have been really...erratic.”

 

A memory automatically popped into her head and Frisk was forced to think back to the time before Asriel’s return, when her relationship with Sans had been...rocky, to say the least. She’d been walking through Alphys’ lab on her way to the further areas of Hotland and she still clearly remembered seeing and not recognising herself in the humongous screen near the entrance.  Her reflection had been entirely foreign - from the way her long stringy hair seemed to frame her gaunt countenance to the way her tattered clothes limply hung off her battered, spindly form - and, for a second, she thought that the screen itself had been affected by the anomaly and she was staring into an alternate universe. But then she had blinked and the moment had passed as she turned and strode from the screen, barely noticing as her chains trailed behind her and clinked with each step.

 

The weirdness of the entire ordeal hadn’t really hit her until much later, when she was back home and lying on the couch. Her thoughts had strayed back to earlier that day and it was only then that the incident really freaked her out because something felt _wrong_. Even as she desperately tried to recall the details of that experience, it always seemed as if she was fabricating memories. There was never the same clarity that she felt when she was staring at her own reflection, and it bothered her beyond competent thought that she knew for a fact that she had missed something, but didn’t know what.

 

And that incident wasn’t a one-time occurrence. In the times where instability was a norm and the cold was drawn upon as a source of numbing relief, her life was rife with these blurry episodes. It had come to the point that her memory was peppered with hazy holes and at the very least, it was off-putting. Asriel’s return had inadvertently smoothed things over between her and Sans and for a brief time, he’d brought back some semblance of normality in their life. Now that she had a respite from the internal turmoil that had plagued her, she could see the damage it was doing, and was thoroughly determined to make sure another rift would not divide them again.

“I’m not saying this will fix everything because that’s wishful thinking. But at the very least I’ll know where we stand. And I guess what I’m trying to get at is…”

 

Frisk trailed off and stood up, gesturing for Sans to follow suit. Once he was on his feet, she took a deep breath and thrust out her hand.

 

“Hi,” she murmured, smiling. “I’m Frisk. Frisk the human.”

 

She held his gaze steadily, expectant, and a name shoved itself into Sans’ mind. It wasn’t the most complex one in the world but it fit and before he could stop himself, Sans was stepping forward and shaking Frisk’s hand.

 

“G. G the…”

 

“Skeleton?” she ventured.

 

“Sure, kid. Why not?” he said as he shrugged. “Although it makes my identity a little bare-bones, don’cha think?”

 

She groaned and rolled her eyes good-naturedly before brushing past him, a genuine grin lighting up her features.

 

“Yep. Definitely a skeleton.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean? Do I remind you of anyone?”

 

“Mmmmaybe. I know a guy pretty similar to you.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Yeah. He’s pretty short. Dwarfish even,” she added mischievously, grinning as G scoffed. “But he tells good jokes and he’s great for hugs.

 

“Sounds like a cool guy.”

 

“Nah, that’s his younger brother. _He’s_ a dork.”

 

“By your word or his?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“I’d imagine so. Wouldn’t want to be fed false information.”

 

“Oh, yes, ‘cause everybody knows having the truth withheld can be really frustrating, can’t it?” she replied wryly as she shot G a knowing smirk. All she got out of him was a mere shrug, his face impassive. “Okay, by my word then.”

 

“And, as it has been said by the fates above, your word is law.”

 

“Naturally.”

 

“So he’s a dork. What else?”

 

“He’s the type of monster to put whoopee cushions in his jacket so whenever you hug him it makes a farting sound. That should tell you just what kind of guy he is.”

 

“Sorry, I dunno if it does. I just _can’t_ get enough of you praising this absolute stranger.”

 

Frisk swivelled around to direct an appraising look his way without halting, her lips quirking upwards into a dry smile.

 

“Okay fine. You asked for it,” she warned before hurling herself into a spiel. “This guy - you’ve got no idea - he’s simultaneously one of the most lovable and infuriating people on the planet. Every night, without fail, he reads his little brother a bedtime story and, honestly, he tells the worst jokes but you still laugh. He’s funny and kind but when things get serious so does he and when it comes to his loved ones, he doesn’t mess around. He’s lazy and a slob but you love him for it because even though he’s the type to fall asleep on the job, he’s also the kind of guy to stack 29 hotdogs on your head just ‘cause. He’s always up for a joke or two or three or four but…”

 

Frisk slowed down to a stop and so did G.

 

“...he’s also the guy who hides when he’s upset just so the others don’t see.”

 

Her hair fell over her face so G make out her expression but he had a pretty decent idea of what face she was making and he didn’t like it.

 

“He knows a lot more than he lets on, I’m sure,” Frisk continued and her voice was soft. For a moment, they both didn’t say a word.  And then the moment passed and she was stretching her arms and clearing her throat, casually dispelling the suffocating atmosphere that had begun to settle around them.

 

“So yeah,” she stated firmly. “He’s pretty cool.”

 

“What a guy,” G responded as he fell back into his place of strolling beside her, his hands stuffed firmly in his pockets and an unlit cigarette in between his teeth. “I’ve gotta meet him one day.”

 

“Maybe you will.”

 

“Or...maybe I won’t.”

 

“Hey, c’mon, be a little optimistic. I feel like you two would get along great.”

 

“Really? To be honest, he sounds like a bit of a numbskull.”

 

The echoes of Frisk bursting into laughter followed them all the way home.

\--

Flowey sprouted up into the carpeted floor of the living room and used his roots to clamber back up onto the side table, brushing off tiny pieces of lint as he went. He’d left the house charged with magic - just as a precaution in case Frisk’s encounter with Sans hadn’t gone as well as it did - and with a single swipe of his leaf, the tangible prickle in the air vanished. With a sigh, he settled down in his spot on the table as he kept his eyes trained on the front door. Frisk and Sans - Frisk and _G_ would be back soon; when he had left them, they’d only been a little while away.

 

Absently, he wondered if they’d noticed his presence. He had taken the precaution of waiting for a few minutes before following Frisk in her spirited search for Sans, and he hoped that in her rush she hadn’t caught sight of him. Although, to be honest, it didn’t really matter if she did or not; even if she had seen him, he merely would’ve appeared as a concerned bystander. However, since he opted to go to Sans the minute he was sure she was on the right track, she might have a few questions for him. And he was certain that she wasn’t the only one.

 

When Flowey had arrived just in time to hear Sans’ revelation, he was just as surprised as the skeleton. Gaster hadn’t told him a thing about the true properties of the echo flowers. He couldn’t help but feel bitter that he apparently hadn’t been worthy enough to be privy to such crucial information as he silently seethed in the clump of shrubbery he’d hidden himself in. What a fool. Did the glitch think he was incapable of keeping a secret? It didn’t help matters that with Gaster’s recent takeover of Sans’ body, it had become bloodcurdlingly apparent that he would try anything to get Frisk to remember her homicidal past. Flowey and Sans had their differences, but they both agreed that keeping Frisk safe was a top priority and _that_ debacle was definitely a breach of safety. Despite his best efforts, he could feel his loyalties shifting and, going by the chilling glance Gaster had given him shortly before the glitch had left Sans to his demons, the damned scientist could sense it too.

 

It wasn’t as if he had any emotional ties to the glitch either. Even when he was a child, the scientist had disturbed him beyond measure. His clinical tone and constant politeness had been off-putting at the very best, and it said something that Gaster’s demented form was barely any different - give or take a few powers - to what he had been in the material plane.

 

Suddenly, the door burst open and Flowey shoved such thoughts out of his mind. If what Gaster had said relating to him and Sans - to him and _G_ was true, then he’d have to act extra carefully around him. He wouldn’t want the abomination to catch onto his mutinous thoughts. Plus there was always a lingering chance that things may have taken a turn for the worse while he was gone, so he would have to step lightly around them. He shouldn’t have been concerned though. As soon as he turned around, he witnessed two bumbling idiots with two goofy grins tumble in through the doorway, and his worry vanished in an instant.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked flatly. Frisk stumbled forward, her cheeks pink with glee, and placed a tiny flower crown on his head. Belatedly, Flowey noticed that G wore a similar one and, judging by the way he was grinning, quite proudly too.

 

“Flower crowns for everyone!” she exclaimed. He glanced at her, then at the white daisy ring balanced precariously on his head, and huffed resignedly.

 

“I feel like this is a breach of ethical rights.”

 

“Don’t think you get a say in that department, pal,” G sidled up and flicked him mischievously.

 

“Says the idiot who feeds a flower a hotdog for dinner every night.”

 

“It's not like you actually need food to survive.”

 

“Exactly! So quit stuffing garbage down my throat!”

 

“They’re water sausages, buddy. Plants, not meat.”

 

“EXACTLY!”

 

Frisk giggled from behind her hand, watching as they bickered away. G started at the sound, as if remembering something, then turned back to the flower.

 

“By the way, it’s G now.”

 

“What is?” he asked, feigning surprise.

 

“My name. It’s G.”

 

“Your name is G?” Flowey sneered. “How imaginative.”

 

“Okay, buddy, you _definitely_ can’t say a _thing_ about that.”

 

“Your name is literally just a letter!”

 

“And yours is literally ‘flower’ with the ‘r’ replaced by a ‘y’.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Yeah… I don’t think so.”

 

Flowey groaned and Frisk took that as her cue to leave, waving a silent goodbye to G as she disappeared into the kitchen in search for a snack. They both watched her go quietly.

 

“Thanks for back then,” G whispered, his eyes steadily trained ahead. “I owe you one.”

 

Flowey eyed him warily and scoffed.

 

“Make it a few hundred then maybe we’ll be even.”

 

“Don’t push your luck, pellet prince.”

 

“Same to you, pretty princess.”

 

G’s head whirled around so fast that Flowey thought it’d pop off and the skeleton gaped at him in shock.

 

“Stop that. You look like you’re trying to catch flies,” Flowey said briskly. In response, G gave a small laugh and leaned back onto the wall.

 

“Heh. Sneaky,” he muttered as he gave Flowey a conceding smirk. “How much do you know?”

 

“Like I’m going to tell you,” he replied smugly before his tone cooled a couple of degrees. “You better get to work, G. Time is ticking.”

 

G held his piercing gaze for a second before he barked out a mirthless laugh.

 

“You think I don’t know that?” he muttered curtly. “Don’t kid yourself, brat. I’m gonna fix this if it’s the last thing I do.”

 

Flowey rolled his eyes. Who was he trying to impress?

 

Frisk was right; the damned skeleton tried far too hard to be cool. 

\--

 

The next day, Frisk was rudely jostled awake by a very excited skeleton.

 

“G? What’s going on?” she mumbled as she rubbed sleep from her eyes, catching Asriel’s drowsy form from toppling off her shoulder just in time. “You know it’s super early, right?”

 

“Look!” he exclaimed and something in his voice made her sit up straight.

 

Frisk’s eyes immediately latched onto the glowing sphere G held between his thumb and his forefinger and she forced herself to blink because for some reason, images were showing up behind her eyelids and she was very sure that wasn’t supposed to be happening.

 

“Oh, wow. A glowy golf ball,” Asriel grumbled. In between the flashes of images, she could see G rolling his eye.

 

“This came from an echo flower,” he said and now she was wide awake.

 

“What? How? What the… are you serious?” she said as she peered closer at the ball that seemed to rapidly flicker with an array of colours. “What is it?”

 

“It’s a pocket of time. One that’s 10 minutes and 13 seconds long, to be exact. Turns out when you strip away the flower, this is what remains,” he said and dropped the sphere into her waiting palm. Almost immediately, her face twisted in discomfort as she held the sphere gingerly. It… prickled, to the point that it was almost numbing, and every so often it pulsed and sent little waves of unnatural warmth up her arm.

 

“A pocket of time? How?”

 

“As we all know, these collisions have altered properties of major elements in our world. We thought that the change in echo flowers was restricted to the visions but...well, we were obviously wrong.”

 

“So...I’m holding a little section of time in my hand?” Frisk stared incredulously at the tiny ball in her hand. “How is this even possible?”

 

“Well, I’ve been going over a bit of a theory,” G mused thoughtfully. “Echo flowers usually record sounds and then relay them back to you, right? But now they’ve got visions. Big whoop. They’ve got images to accompany the sounds but in their original world, they only had the recordings. So where did the pictures come from? ‘Cause this may come as a shock but echo flowers don’t have eyes. But guess who does?”

 

“Any other living being?” Flowey grumbled, clearly impatient.  

 

“Exactly. And which living being has always been present in every single vision?”

 

A second ticked by as Frisk’s eyes widened, the realisation finally dawning on her.

 

“Me,” she muttered in awe.

 

“Bingo. These echo flowers…they’re the embodiment of Frisk’s memories. That’s the reason why only Frisk can see the visions! That’s how the echo flowers got their pictures!  They had a constant who they could rely on to be their eyes.”

 

For a second, G paused as he tried to get his breath, grinning at the stunned looks his companions bore on their faces.

 

“Of course, that’s just a theory,” he added as he plucked the glowing sphere from Frisk’s grasp.

 

Frisk’s eyes inadvertently followed the little ball of light, and she had to force herself to tear her gaze away. The overhanging realisation of what it truly held was just beginning to sink in and at that moment, she couldn’t stop staring at it in wonder. She really shouldn’t have been surprised at this sort of thing anymore - after all, she did live in a world of miracles and magic - but the thought that she had been holding onto one of her own memories in a material form...it was humbling as much as it was confusing. It was odd but even then she could feel herself getting used to the unnatural buzz of the sphere. She knew it wouldn’t be long before she could see into its contents again without difficulty.

 

“How the hell did you find this?” Asriel’s voice brought her back to the present and she joined him in directing a scrutinizing glare towards G. In response, the skeleton sighed and sat himself down on the ground, grinning sheepishly.

 

“I’d been working on the visions for a while and I wasn’t getting anywhere. Lounging around and wasting time wasn’t the best use for my efforts so I started looking at the flower itself and then I found this - ” G paused to hold up the glimmering sphere. “ - where something entirely different should’ve been. One thing led to another and now… this.”

 

“Sorry, buddy,” G turned his sights on Frisk, smiling ruefully. “Didn’t tell you ‘cause I didn’t want to disappoint if it turned out to be a bust.”

 

G held her gaze steadily. Had she bought it? He’d spent an innumerable amount of time practising his explanation in his head and, judging by the pleased look Flowey was giving him, it seemed satisfactory enough. He’d known that he would have to fabricate a story the minute he’d realised what was up; the realisation was too abrupt and game-changing to buy as a simple one-off revelation, and there was no way in hell he was going to tell her about Gaster. He had enough problems as it was and hopefully, with this clarification, he had potentially eradicated the chance that another would join the ranks.

 

He followed her line of sight as she glanced from him to the sphere he held firmly in his grasp. For a moment, her brow furrowed and doubt seeped into his mind. Had he been too vague? Maybe he should’ve been a bit more detailed on how he extracted it, or just talked a bit more about how the visions were becoming a dead end or-

 

“So what’s next?”

 

G internally breathed a sigh of relief and leapt into his explanation.

 

“Regardless of whether they’re memories or not, these things are pockets of time and we can use them to go back. Remember that machine you found in my lab out the back? The one that seems to be all broken and run down?” G paused to flash her a winning smile. “Well, guess who has a time machine gathering dust under a tarp?”

 

“What?” she stared, open-mouthed, as her mind raced to fill in the blanks. It seemed as if that day was chock full of surprises. “A time machine? Then how-”

 

“It doesn’t work,” G quickly elaborated. “It was missing a boost, something to propel it back or forwards through time. Back when I was still building it, I realised that it was impossible to create spare time out of nothing so I abandoned it. But now…”

 

He paused to twirl the little glowing ball in the air like a spinning top and, with a flourish, sent it straight into her waiting palm.

 

“Now we’re back in business.”

 

“Well, that’s great and all, but how many of these flowers will we need?” Flowey piped up, genuine interest colouring his tone, as Frisk studied the orb for a second before tossing it back to G. “This one is worth around 10 minutes. For the time we’ve spent in this reality, it’ll take a whole lot of glowy golf balls to make up for that.”

 

“Good point there, but I’ve done the math,” he said, holding up the sphere for emphasis. “If we estimate that, at the very minimum, each flower is worth around 10 minutes, that makes it so 144 is equal to one day. We’ve been in this mess for around a month so, if we start today, that’s a minimum of 4464 flowers to get back to a time when we can fix all this.”

 

Flowey sighed, long and despairing, as Frisk swivelled round to rummage around in her backpack.

 

“That’s a lot of flowers,” the golden flower groused from Frisk’s shoulder.

 

“Yup. Good thing I’ve got a formula worked out. And…” G strained his neck to look at what Frisk was so furiously searching for and smiled appreciatively to himself. “...looks like the kid has the right idea.”

 

Breathless, Frisk slapped down the map of the underground Sans had given her long ago and surveyed it, her attentive eyes quickly darting around the expanse of paper before her.

 

“So from what I’ve gathered from walking around the Underground there are a few main hotspots for the echo flowers to appear in,” she began, concentration lining her features. “They’ll appear anywhere but there are some areas where they’re especially concentrated; there are fields of them that go on forever, you have no idea.”

 

She paused, biting her lip, then jabbed a finger down on the map.

 

“The biggest one is in Waterfall just in front of the big frozen waterfall, but there’s another in Hotland in Alphys’ lab. Snowdin’s got a few clumps spread around the puzzles just outside the town, plus the gigantic pile near the Christmas tree. Oh, and there’s another one in the Ruins,” she added and looked away at G’s searching gaze. “Yeah, I checked.”

 

“And if we use that logic, that means the final location would be…” Flowey began thoughtfully.

 

“The Capital,” she finished, nodding. “I haven’t gotten up to there yet but I’m willing to bet there’s a gigantic cluster of echo flowers waiting for us there.”

 

G listened to them, silent. He’d known that this would’ve come up sooner or later; he’d been a fool to think he’d be able to slide his deed past unnoticed. After all, the kid was smart. He should’ve given her enough credit. G’s hands tightened into fists.

 

_He could still taste the ash._

 

A voice at the back of his mind nagged at him. Those flowers in the hall… he hadn’t bothered counting them, but what if those few made all the difference in the end? G mentally snarled and shoved his thoughts to the side. What good were these musings now? The flowers were gone. He’d obliterated them in an instant and now not even their ash remained in the hall. Besides, what difference would a measly twenty or so flowers make in the bigger scale of things?

 

He had to focus.

 

When he looked back up, he was met with the collaborative stares of both Frisk and Flowey. He gritted his teeth when he saw the pitying look on Flowey’s face. G would’ve preferred it if he was smug. At least then it wouldn’t sting as much.

 

“G?” Frisk asked. “You’ve been really quiet so far. Are you-”

 

“I’m fine, kid,” he answered shortly as he plastered on a reassuring grin. “Just going over the process in my head.”

 

That dilemma would have to wait. He had an audience to cater to.

 

“Just as you said, there are 4 definite locations for echo flower clusters. I’m still unsure about the Capital location,” he quickly added as Frisk opened her mouth to correct him. “I’m just saying. Haven’t seen any signs of masses of flowers over there yet. Though seriously, who knows? We might just be waiting on another collision to come outta nowhere and save the day.”

 

Frisk crossed her arms as she eyed him in puzzlement. Alarm bells rang in G’s mind and he rushed to steer the topic back onto something safe.

 

“Anyway, going back to the flower clusters. It’ll take forever to take the flowers individually, plus we’ll just be adding more time to our counter. We’re on a time limit, guys. Remember that,” he added, pausing to look up from the map and glance at them both mindfully. “So it’s pretty damn lucky that we’ve got two monsters here adept in magic.”

 

“You’re going to use magic?” Flowey said reproachfully. “A little risky, isn’t it?”

 

“Sounds like you didn’t hear me the first time, so I’ll say it once more. We’re on a time limit and magic is the most efficient way. Unless you’ve got a better idea?” G retorted, the bite in his words causing Flowey to glare icily at him before turning away in a huff. Satisfied at his apparent victory, G returned his attention to the map.

 

“The plan is for me and _Asriel -_ ” G paused to pointedly look at Frisk, who responded with a pleased smile. “ _-_ to go to the big clusters, uproot the flowers and strip away the unimportant bits. We’ll try fusing them there as well since it’ll be a pain to bring them back here separately. If we do that, we can knock out a majority of the echo flowers in a span of a few days max.”

 

“So you’re going flower picking,” Frisk commented. G blinked at her in surprise.

 

“Uh… yeah, basically.”

 

“Well, that just solidifies the princess motif, doesn’t it?”

 

From Frisk’s shoulder, Flowey didn’t even attempt to hide his snigger.

 

“To be fair, we aren’t picking so much as uprooting them en masse.”

 

“Same thing,”  Frisk said with a shrug. “We’ll have to have you sing a dainty song while you do it.”

 

“I ain’t making any promises. But just so you know, if I’m singing, so is Asriel,” he added evilly and Flowey froze. The flower whipped around to give him the most furious glare yet and, if looks could kill, G would’ve been six feet under.

 

“You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed.

 

“It’s a joint effort, brat. _You_ don’t get a say in this. But _anyway_...” G continued and turned his sights on Frisk, raising his voice to speak over the top of Flowey’s incessant protests. “... after we’re done with the main clusters, you and the pellet prince over here are in charge of rounding up all the spare echo flowers.”

 

“What about you?” Frisk asked as she began clearing up the space.

 

“I’ll stay here and work on the time machine,” G answered even as his mind went to work on his mental blueprints. “I’ll need to make a few adjustments so that it can make use of this time boost effectively. Plus I have to build containment units for the collective time pockets. It’s a little more complicated than just dropping them down a slot with this sort of thing.”

 

“Sounds like a plan,” she replied as she shrugged on her backpack and Flowey gave an affirmative grunt. “Let’s get to work.”

 

\--

 

“So we’re doing Waterfall first?” G enquired as he peered over Frisk’s shoulder and at the notebook she was poring over. She nodded distractedly in response, rapidly flipping through the pages, and produced a second notebook from her backpack.

 

 _Oh yeah_ , G thought to himself as he glimpsed a series of battered books squashed together in a wad of paper and leather in the depths of her bag. _Frisk has more than one notebook._

 

Considering all the flowers she catalogued, he really shouldn’t have been surprised. In fact, he probably should’ve noticed that long ago. G scratched the back of his skull sheepishly as he followed Frisk’s retreating figure down the path to Waterfall. He supposed he hadn’t been very observant lately.

 

When he looked up, he locked eyes with Flowey who gave him the most sardonic glance he could manage before turning away to sulk. He chuckled to himself. Some things never changed.

 

“So, like I said before, the Waterfall cluster is by far the biggest one out of them all,” Frisk’s voice brought him back to the present and he turned an attentive eye on her as she continued.  “Last time I was here, I counted around 600 flowers. But with the latest crash, a whole ton more have appeared.”

 

G frowned. Sounded like he had his work cut out for him.

 

It was going to be hard for him to do, he knew that. After all, his motion magic specialised in quick powerful bursts, not lengthy and precise activity. Even with Flowey’s help, there was a big chance this could go south. Maybe the flower had been right. This was very risky. But he had a point as well. They were running out of time and every second they saved brought them closer to fixing this mess.

 

G’s hands tightened into fists.

 

He’d get through this. They all would.

 

“Here we are.” Frisk’s voice brought him out of his thoughts just in time to keep himself from crashing straight into her. “G? You okay?”

 

“Just dandy, kiddo,” he responded with an easy smile.

 

G let his eye rove around the cavern. It hadn’t changed at all from the last time he’d seen it - same frozen waterfall, same lake, same rocky outcrop, it was all there - yet the sight of the never-ending sea echo flowers was introducing a sense of utmost pressure. The ground wasn’t even visible anymore; all he could see were row after row of echo flowers, shifting and swaying in the breeze.

 

G winced as he strained to see the end and failed.

 

“Uh...okay, then. Hold onto this for a second, would you?” Frisk shoved her backpack into his hands then let herself drop into the valley below. “I’m going to do a quick estimate.”

 

Flowey scrambled down from her shoulder and settled upon a pile of rocks next to G who was beginning to puff on a newly lit cigarette. For a long moment, they both watched as Frisk gently shifted her way through the echo flower field.

 

“Are you gonna be okay, trashbag? Your magic’s been pretty unstable lately,” Flowey whispered to him. “I don’t want you messing this up. ”

 

G took a long draught on his cigarette, eyes firmly closed, and sighed.

 

“Why do you think you’re here, huh?” he muttered.

 

“Why do I have to be the one to clean up your mess?” the flower snapped.

 

“There won’t _be_ one if you do your job right, bud.”

 

Flowey let out a long-suffering groan.

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Hey!” came Frisk’s voice from the valley below. “I took a look at how many there were! There’s gotta be at least a thousand of these here!”

 

“Oh, goody,” the flower grumbled as G helped her get back into their outcrop.

 

G grunted as he closed his eyes and focused. In his mind’s eye, a sea of floating white spheres materialised in the darkness and he swept a quick, surveying glance over the expanse of light. It was strange; if you simply knew what you were looking for, it made the search so much easier. When he reopened his eyes, he had to blink a few times to readjust.

 

“Nice try, kid,” he smirked. “I’ve counted around 2000. What about you, Mr Flower Power?”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Flowey snarled. “Same here. 2,164 flowers.”

 

“What an eye for detail! You should take up flower arrangement. Get a hobby.”

 

“Shut up and get on with it.”

 

“Yes, your highness.”

 

G stepped forward so that he stood at the very edge of the ledge and took a deep breath.

 

“Okay, kid, you might wanna stay back.”

 

G shot out his hands with his palms facing the flowers, narrowed his eyes and concentrated. He could see the little orbs of power hiding in the rippling sea of flowers, he could _feel_ them and the roots that kept them weighted down. He mentally reached out and caught hold, his hands twitching slightly with the weight of it all, and took a deep breath. They tingled underneath his grasp and it was taking all his concentration to keep the little spheres of light herded within his boundaries.

 

“Oi, brat, are you ready?”

 

“Right behind you, trashbag.”

 

Okay. Secure. And now, pull!

 

With an earsplitting tear, the ground before them exploded in a fit of soil and rock, showering them with clouds of dust and little specks of light. The echo flowers precariously hung in the air, their roots visibly hanging in the clumps of dirt they’d brought along with them and their glow dimming more and more with each second.

 

“Are you trying to make my job harder?” Flowey’s voice was barely audible over the dull thuds of gravity doing its job of sending the clumps of earth straight back into the ground.

 

“Just hurry up!” G growled, sweat beading on his forehead, as he struggled to keep all the flowers afloat. At the edges of the group, some of the stragglers were beginning to droop and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long.

 

At his side, Flowey glared at the humongous floating gathering of flowers as if he had a personal vendetta against them and propelled his magic through it, leasing tiny strands of his golden light to coil around each flower as he went. When he’d finished the very last one, he visualised the strings and he pulled hard, as you would if you were stretching a rubber band. He grunted under the mounting pressure forming at the back of his eyes but he held on until the pain was too potent to bear. With a quick warning glance to G at his side, Flowey tightened the strings a fraction more then released, watching in elated satisfaction as his golden strings whirred around their respective flowers, stripping away all extraneous components in a matter of seconds. Before long, the ground was blanketed by a cover of petals and leaves and all that remained in the air were rows and rows of dizzyingly bright lights.

 

“Good job,” G said from beside him, a note of exhaustion creeping into his otherwise composed tone. “Clean. Are we fusing?”

 

“I think so,” Flowey instinctively steadied the group of floating spheres as one end began to drop dangerously low.

 

“Oh, great,” G muttered to himself.

 

With a grunt, his splayed hands bunched into fists and the gathering of little white lights separated themselves into large, jittering spheres of piercing brightness. The individual balls vibrated and bounced, upset to be in such close proximity to each other and G hissed from exertion.

 

 _C’mon, persist_ , he told himself mentally. _You can do this._

 

His fists tightened as he struggled to contain the juddering energy for a moment more. In the span of a second, he slammed his hands together in a clap and, as if on cue, tremendous shockwave rippled through the cavern, dislodging various chunks of rock that Flowey expertly directed away from their little alcove. As the winds died down and the dust clouds cleared, G tentatively brought his hands down and stared at the gigantic sphere that floated serenely in front of him.

 

It was around the size of a beachball and it seemed to be just as light as he cautiously let it fall into his grasp. It was bright but not blinding and it thrummed with a low, almost inaudible buzz. It was mesmerising in a way that made him supremely uncomfortable because he was suddenly painfully aware that he was holding a little bit of Frisk’s mind in his hands.

 

“Cool,” he said simply. Suddenly, he stumbled forwards, winded, as Frisk hugged him roughly.

 

“You did it!”

 

Despite his exhaustion, G couldn’t help himself from hugging her back. Damn kid and her damn starry eyes.

 

“Yeah, we did it. And I’ve got the headache to prove it,” G mumbled as he handed Frisk the giant glowing ball and settled down on the ground in front of the frozen waterfall. He sighed in relief as he leaned his head against the cool surface. The cold was refreshing. It numbed the painful throb in his head. “Oh man, that took a lot outta me. Lemme have a breather, won’t you?”

 

“Tired, huh?” she responded, a gentle smile playing at her lips. “I guess you don’t have the energy to perform a dainty music number?”

 

G felt a laugh rattle in his chest.

 

“Sorry, kid. Not this time.”

 

“What a shame.”

 

G watched out of the corner of his eye as Frisk settled down next to him, the glowing sphere resting snugly in her lap and Flowey sitting on her shoulder once more.

 

“So how’re you doing, bud?” G asked.

 

“Unlike you, I’m not a weakling,” Flowey muttered loftily in response. “So I’m perfectly fine.”

 

“Really? I would’ve thought that you’d have been a little daisy at the very least. Well, just goes to show that I shouldn’t clover-work myself.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Hey, no need to get antsy. I’ll be up in a lily bit.”

 

“Stop talking right now or I swear I will kill you.”

 

“Wow, look at all that negativity. Well, I’m sure that thistle make you feel better,” G continued as he gestured for him to relax. “I’m just lavender atmosphere here, aren’t you?”

 

“Are you done?”

 

“Think so. I haven’t botany more.”

 

G couldn’t help the genuine grin that spread over his features as he heard Flowey do his signature long-suffering groan accompanied by Frisk’s giggles. The mood was finally beginning to settle down into something more of a relaxed atmosphere and he was enjoying the break from the tension that had somehow become a norm in their everyday life. He hummed contentedly as felt his eyelids droop from the tantalising call of sleep and let himself fall into a light nap but not before making a mental note of their progress.

 

2,164 flowers in the span of a few minutes.

 

Not a bad start.

 

\--

With the help of Frisk’s seemingly endless enthusiasm and a whole pot of extra-caffeinated coffee they’d ‘borrowed’ from Alphys’ lab, the three of them managed to visit and extract the time pockets from all of the designated areas besides the Capital in the span of 2 days.

 

There hadn’t been any slip ups due to his inexperience or alleged magical instability - thank god for small miracles - and G was rather confident in declaring that the symptoms of the latter had officially passed. Their pursuits in Hotland and Snowdin had passed in a blur but the memory of the Ruins stuck with G far longer than he would’ve liked.

 

Their time in the Ruins was noticeably bereft of conversation. G knew that the area was...special to both Frisk and Flowey and he took great care not to disturb some of their more tender recollections of the past. More than once, he glimpsed Frisk gazing fondly at the big lounging armchair that sat in front of the fireplace in Toriel’s home, no doubt thinking back to happier, more simple times. Even Flowey was strangely muted in the Ruins as he stared at his surroundings not fondly, but almost regretfully with a hint of repressed nostalgia in his eyes. G gave them both a wide berth; they needed their privacy. And yet, as he watched the two of them from the corner of his eye, G couldn’t help feeling the slightest bit jealous. He’d grown up with a certain absence of parental love and even if Toriel would never stop with her mothering nature, she would never be his mother- only a valued friend. And somewhere in the darker recesses of his mind, he couldn’t help but wish for a parental figure who he could love so much that this reaction would be sensibly warranted. He wanted to be able to have that connection with someone so that, when they were gone, he’d tiptoe around their belongings, not daring to touch a thing in case the inherent comfort and safety intertwined in such a setting would be disturbed. But then he had looked down at his palms, had seen the two gaping holes in his hands and the need had all but vanished.

 

What’s done was done. There was no point to him pining over something he’d never have.

 

And yet his traitorous mind had defied him and brought forward a memory of Gaster - one of the rare ones that he purposefully kept. He’d been working in the lab overtime and had fallen into a stasis of drowsiness while going over the recent data regarding fluctuations in the Core. It was in that sleepy haze that he’d groggily noticed a pair of familiar white hands punctured cleanly through the middle gently place a thick blanket around him then disappear from his field of vision. It had been moments like that that had given him hope that there was some truth to Papyrus’ declarations that Gaster did care - he just had a funny way of showing it. But eventually, the bad had outweighed the good and he’d taken Papyrus by the hand and stormed out of the lab. And, of course, that’s when everything went wrong. He’d heard the explosion before he saw it - everybody did - but despite that, he was one of the first people on the site. He still remembered seeing Gaster, trapped inside the flaming beams of the disrupted Core, and being utterly shocked that there was true panic in the scientist’s face, genuine emotion that wasn’t feigned for the sake of him or his brother. There’d been a moment where their eyes had locked, staring only at each other in the midst of the chaos, and then -

 

_“Get out, Sans! I order you to leave immediately!”_

 

_“I can’t just abandon you here! You’ll die!”_

 

_“So will you if you stay any longer! Now go! I must do what I can to stabilise the Core.”_

 

_“Gaster-”_

 

 _“_ **_LEAVE!_ ** _”_

 

G had run a hand over the Gaster Blaster insignia stitched onto the shoulder of his fur jacket and had sighed.

 

 _The past is the past,_ he’d thought to himself as he joined the others at the exit. _I should keep it that way._

 

Usually, the three of them ‘borrowed’ things from such areas - just so that they wouldn’t run out of supplies - but there was an unspoken agreement that Toriel’s home would remain untouched. So they had left the Ruins with Frisk gently tossing a glowing basketball-sized sphere through the air and an atmosphere laden with renewed determination and silent regrets hanging over them.

 

Their final destination was the Capital.

 

G had teleported them there for the sake of efficiency but now that he was standing in the grey confines of the city, he was mentally kicking himself for willingly giving up an opportunity to stall. The Capital had produced an amalgamation of flourishing greenery from the last time he’d been there - he could barely walk five paces without tripping over a random sapling or a bunch of tulips - and, judging by the faraway sounds of trickling water, it seemed as though it had received  a water source in one of the collisions. Vines clambered up the grey stone structures of the city and artificial sunlight scatteredly shone from the windows, illuminating the sparkling water that flowed through the openings in scaffolds which created tiny waterfalls that seemed to fall short of actually making contact with the ground. It was peaceful and G would’ve stopped to admire the view if his mind hadn’t been dead set on what lay behind the doors to Judgement Hall. He had eradicated the flowers there beforehand but there was always the chance that, with the aid of another crash, another set had appeared to take its place. Even if she wasn’t looking into the visions anymore, just being in close proximity to a globe constructed from repressed memories and shadowed regrets could incite her to remember and G was definitely not going to risk that.

 

So the minute they stepped foot in the castle, G didn’t waste any time. He paced himself, allowing a few minutes of feigned interest in the little clumps of echo flowers that decorated the halls, before he swivelled back around to address Frisk.

 

“I’m gonna go on ahead, okay kid?” G said casually. “Gonna scout out a few prime areas.”

 

“Good idea. The castle’s pretty big though so don’t get lost,” she called back from a side corridor. G snorted at the concept of getting lost. When you had teleportation powers, that was a non-existent trouble.

 

“Right back atcha, kid. Unlike me, you don’t have the convenient power of teleportation. So be careful,” G shifted to address the flower who rested, as always, on Frisk’s shoulder. “Oi, flower boy! Keep an eye on the kid won’t you?”

 

“Whatever, ” Flowey muttered as he pointedly ignored the retreating skeleton and G’s grin widened at his reaction.

 

Despite the flower’s flippant tone, G could feel Flowey’s eyes trained on his back all the way down the corridor until he turned round the corner and promptly disappeared.

 

In an instant, he was back in Judgement Hall and he was sweeping a scrutinizing glare around the golden-tiled passage as quick as he could. The air still buzzed from the remains of his flames; the tension was so thick he could almost taste the smoke. Some areas of the walls were blackened by char and soot, places where his fire had gotten a little too enthusiastic on its rampage, and in some of the further corners there lay a small smattering of ash. It was all inconsequential - he could blame most of these markings on the influence of crashes - but the red splash of colour that sprouted in the middle of the hall was definitely new. A moment passed as G stared at the singular poppy. It was irrational but the little red flower was irking him.

 

_Red. The colour of blood._

 

Before the thought had even finished forming in his mind, he’d unleashed a white-hot bolt of fire to obliterate the flower. The hardened scowl he wore quickly melted into something a lot more feeble as he took a step back and breathed in deeply. He needed to leave. The place was getting to him.

\--

 

“Sorry, kid, but Judgement Hall was a bust.”

 

“Damn,” she muttered as she bit at her nail. “We haven’t found any big groups on our end either.”

 

“So I’m guessing the Capital was a no-go after all. Turns out I was right.”

 

“Hey, nobody likes a smartass,” Frisk responded as she broke out of her worried expression to playfully punch the skeleton in the arm.

 

“From what I can tell, you’re pretty popular so…”

 

“Shut up,” she laughed as she shoulder bumped him gently.

At that moment, Flowey promptly tuned out. Their banter always seemed to devolve into nothing more than inconsistent babble and he personally would rather catch a rest on Frisk’s shoulder than ever dream of participating in their conversation. The last few days had exhausted him - not that he would ever admit it - and he treasured the meagre rests they got. With G making that incessant racket in the lab outside any waking moment, Flowey had gotten his fair share of splitting migraines and the daily exertion of transforming flowers into ‘time spheres’ (G’s words, not his) did not help matters whatsoever. The only respite he managed to procure was due to the efforts of Frisk and he was more thankful than she would ever know that she held the power to make the damned skeleton shut the hell up with a single word. Thank God she was here to mediate between them or else Flowey would’ve thrown G into a lava pit long ago. Just as he was about to settle down into a short nap, he caught sight of a grey spined tail disappearing around the corner to their right and he froze.

 

Flowey involuntarily shivered. He had to go.

 

He scrambled down Frisk’s arm, mind obviously elsewhere, and was nearly to the floor when-

 

“Asriel? Where are you going?” Frisk asked. Flowey nearly cringed.

 

“Yeah, _buddy_. Answer the kid, won’t you?” He could feel G’s scrutinizing glare on the back of his head and he didn’t dare turn around, lest he take something from his no-doubtedly vulnerable expression.

 

“I-I have to go,” Flowey stammered quietly. “I’ll meet you back home.”

 

And then he was plunging underneath the surface of the floor and shooting through the earth, leaving behind the raucous sounds of G’s muffled protests and Frisk’s immediately soothing response.

 

When he popped back up into the open air, he had to bite back a scream as the first thing he saw was an impassive, ashen face staring at him with unseeing eyes.

 

“ _FolloW me_ ,” the Goner Kid intoned and Flowey had to suppress a shiver. Its voice wasn’t grating so much as inherently freakish with its elongated vowels and random distortions that seemed to instinctually cloy at the mind. As he cautiously crept after it, he couldn't help but stare. Even its walking gait was disturbing - slightly leaning forward with rapid, jolted strides that seemed to buckle brokenly at the knees - and its spined tail moved independently from its steps, creating a sort of irregular rhythm that perturbed Flowey beyond reasonable explanation. It was odd to see this being, to perceive it in every possible way, but still know that it held not a mind but orders and was merely playing out the actions as an obedient puppet. Flowey’s gaze moved down to its checkered T-shirt and  he cast his eyes to the floor. He had known the poor child before they had fallen victim to the poisonous effects to the first Core malfunction and were subsequently condemned to live through the afterlife as a mindless puppet for Gaster to do with as he wished. Flowey had remembered them as the child that had always been gushing over his younger brother, a monster of an uncanny likeness but with a striped shirt instead of a checkered one. The Goner Kid had been young and vibrant and full of aspirational dreams. It was almost insulting to see this shell pretend to be the same creature.

 

The Goner Kid came to a firm stop before a rather unassuming dead end and so did he. After a minute or so of casting a cursory eye around his surroundings, Flowey turned to ask the Goner Kid for a confirmation that this particular corridor was indeed the meeting place but was met with open air. Now presumably alone, Flowey shuddered. Oh, how he _despised_ the servants of Gaster.

 

As if on cue, the shadows that lingered in the far corners of the passage swept forward into a mass that grew taller and taller as a ghostly pair of hands and a pale face materialised out of nothing. Flowey watched in a mix between awe and alarm as the walls and floor around him seemed to distort with Gaster’s form that was gradually taking shape acting as the epicenter. With a pop that made him wince, reality pulled taut for a moment more then fell back into place.

 

The silence that followed was deafening.

 

Flowey shivered under the scrutiny of Gaster’s gaze.

 

He didn’t want to be there.

 

“ **PRincE AsRiel DreemUrr** ,” Gaster began and Flowey flinched at how the scientist made his full title seem like an insult in itself. “ **HoW hAve YoU BeEN?** ”

 

Flowey didn’t say a word.

 

“ **WhAt HAve You BeEn DoiNG LaTeLY? BeSIDes MiNDLEssLy FroLiCKinG In FAcE OF An ImpenDIng DisAster.** ”

 

“I haven’t been frolicking, Gaster,” he grated out. “I’ve been helping the others find their way to a solution.”

 

“ **Do YoU EXpECt ME to REwarD YoU?** ” Gaster muttered. “ **YoUR effOrtS HavE BeeN DirecTed ToWArds The WronG SubJecT.** ”

 

“Gaster, I agree with you objective-wise but your methods are-”

 

“ **My MeTHOds hAVe PRODuCed** **_REsuLTs_ ** **. Do NoT TeLL mE You DID noT SEe thE REd in Her EyEs.** ”

 

“Don’t patronise me. Of course I saw it,” Flowey snapped. “But that way of getting her to remember is far too risky.”

 

“ **I bELievE My FormEr PRotegE Put IT QuITE weLL** ,” Gaster paused to observe him balefully. “ **We ARe RunNinG OuT OF TimE. ShE** **_wiLL_ ** **fiND ouT SooNEr OR LatEr anD I WouLD RathEr It HappEN WhiLE We ArE In ContROL oF thE SituAtioN.”**

 

Flowey kept his eyes trained on the ground. The damned scientist had a point and he loathed him for it.

 

“ **It Is OBviouS ThaT I muST TakE MatteRs IntO MY Own HanDS. I wiLL AcT SooN.** ” Flowey’s head snapped up as he stared, wide-eyed and incredulous, at the ethereal glitch before him. “ **IT is YouR ChoICe wHeTher YoU JoiN Me Or noT**.”

 

“Y-You can’t! It’s too early!”

 

Flowey realised his mistake the moment he’d spoken and he snapped his jaw shut, shrinking under the force of Gaster’s glare.

 

“ **Is That aN oRdEr, YouR HighnEss?** ” the glitch said slowly. Flowey shuddered and pursed his lips, willing the twisting of his stomach to relent. After a moment of studying the silent flower before him, Gaster shifted his gaze away. “ **It is EviDent yOu ARe TenTativE At BeST aT acHIevIng YouR GoaL. HavE yoU ForgottEn? MaY I reFresh yOur MemoRy?** ”

 

Flowey recoiled in horror as he recalled the excruciating pain of having memories forcefully ripped out of the confines of his mind and shook his head vehemently.

 

“No! Please, I just...haven’t we done enough?” he winced at the pathetic tremble in his voice. He hated that the damned abomination could evoke such an pitiable reaction from him with merely a few words.

 

Gaster gave him a long thoughtful look.

 

“ **It is never enough.** ”

 

Once more, Flowey gaped in shock. There was no way that sentence had come from Gaster’s mouth. There was too much sentiment packed into those words - too much regret and hatred - to make it possible they had been uttered by someone so cold and unfazeable as he. The scientist had been facing away from the flower, his eyes focused on something not of that realm, but now he swivelled around, his impeccable, frozen mask put back in place and Flowey sighed in relief as it became apparent once more that Gaster was nothing more than a manipulative abomination.

 

“ **As I SaiD bEfoRE, I ShaLL ProceeD ShoRTLy** ,” he stated, his tone so matter of fact it was almost condescending, and Flowey’s relief was rapidly replaced by a burning dread. “ **YoU maY JoiN me oR yOu May noT** . **EitHeR WaY, rEmembEr yOu AlwaYS Have a choicE**...”

 

As Flowey cast his eyes down to the floor, Gaster’s voice seemed to ring far too loud in the suffocating air.

 

“... **BuT TherE WiLL onLy ever Be oNe RiGht DeciSioN.** ”’

\--

 

Frisk turned the TV off and slumped back onto the couch. As interesting and flamboyant as Mettaton’s shows were, by the time you’d watched them 20 times each, they began to grate on your nerves. She probably shouldn’t complain; she was lucky enough to have even those as a means of entertainment. Lord knows that she’d have been bored out of her mind had she not uncovered Papyrus’ stash of MTV DVDs and taped reruns. She glanced offhandedly at her wristwatch and sighed. Time for bed.

 

As Frisk snuggled into the comforting warmth of her blanket, she found herself inadvertently being serenaded to sleep by the incessant clank and whirr that had been coming from the lab for the past few days and groaned. Did G even know the definition of a break? Ever since they had finished up collecting the ‘time spheres’ from their relative hotspot locations, he’d been at work in his lab all day and all night. The last time she’d visited his lab with her most recent delivery of ‘time bubbles’ (the term for the singular components of time spheres), she’d caught a glimpse of the infamous time machine and she’d gaped in wonder at the metal monstrosity. The main body of it had been simple enough with a cylindrical shape and a trio of thin strips of metal that slotted into a groove at the base which would, when in action, spin around rapidly not unlike the movements of an electronic mixer. This component linked to its fueling station, a hunk of steel that beeped and whirred in a thudding rhythm. The fueling base resembled a hulking engine with an endless set of buttons and a maze of metal tubing snaking its way across the monstrosity. In its center, a space had been carved out where five singular circular globes and one collective receptacle would be able to easily slot in. With the most recent expedition, they had managed to fill up all but one of the globes, something that was a source of much frustration for Frisk.

 

When they’d ventured to the heights of the Capital and found no sign of a echo flower cluster, Frisk couldn’t have helped being overwhelmed by a wave of crushing disappointment. She had really believed there would’ve been at least a measly grouping of a hundred or so but no, all they had found were just little smatterings of echo flowers here and there. She’d reprimanded herself because there was no shame in making a mistake and G was right, maybe they were just too early. There was always the chance a new collision would come out of nowhere and ‘save the day’.

 

Although…

 

It had been quite a while since the last crash - she knew since she always kept an eye out for that signature flash of lightning and it wasn’t as if the thunderous roars of extra-dimensional splits were  especially discreet - and that worried her. Lately, the arrival of collisions had conformed to a certain pattern - one every 3 to 4 days - and if there was another dimension to arrive, it was sure taking its time. But it would arrive. She had to keep believing that. Because, if it didn’t…well, she was trying not to think about what would happen next.

 

And, as if this source of stress wasn’t enough, another plague of worry had entered the arena.

 

No matter what she did, Frisk couldn’t shake off the odd feeling that had come over her the minute she’d stepped into the castle, the feeling that had grown from a small prickle into a full on shock when she’d passed by the doors of Judgement Hall. There was something she was missing - she would’ve bet her life on it - and even as she swivelled around to reassure G that nothing was wrong, she couldn’t help feeling the slightest bit overwhelmed by the sheer instinctual thought that whatever she was missing was terribly important. The feeling had lessened in impact as she’d eventually left the Capital but it still constantly plagued her, an incessant thrum at the back of her mind that crooned sounds to her that weren’t quite words but weren’t vacuous babble either.

 

It didn’t help matters that G had basically become nearly unapproachable due to his absorption in his work. She really should’ve seen it coming; it would’ve been surprising if he _hadn’t_ thrown himself into his project the first spare minute he got. They weren’t on bad terms or anything but it was just becoming increasingly difficult to strike up a conversation with him because you always knew his mind was elsewhere. And she didn’t want to clutter up a space that was almost constantly whirring with ideas so she’d kept her trap shut.

 

Asriel should’ve been the next obvious choice as a confidant but ever since his hasty departure in the halls of the Castle, she hadn’t seen any sign of him for the past few days. She supposed it was par for the course; Asriel wasn’t exactly renowned for his promise-keeping capabilities. Although, to be fair, he hadn’t specified when he’d meet them back home so, technically, he was still in the clear. Frisk rolled over on the couch so that she faced the television and pulled her blanket tighter around her. Asriel had a problem - she knew that, she wasn’t an idiot - but she also knew that when he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be found. With the abilities that he had, it wouldn’t be difficult at all for him to keep himself out of their sight until the end of time and, with that as her evidence, G had begrudgingly agreed not to look for him. They’d both come to the conclusion that searching for him would just be a waste of time - time that they could be using to herd up the remaining echo flowers, an activity that Frisk had set about accomplishing with great fervour.

 

In the span of the day and a half since Asriel’s departure, Frisk had managed to gather around 300 time bubbles which brought them closer and closer to their goal. It was taking all her effort to not be bubbling with glee; for once, it seemed that things were going (relatively) to plan and it excited her beyond measure that hopefully soon, things would go back to normal.

 

Her mind more or less at ease, Frisk settled down and let herself drift off to sleep.

 

It was almost too good to be true.

 

\--

 

G leaned back on his haunches and watched in satisfaction as the steel lid to the glass container obediently spun back into place, securing its contents with a low hiss of steam ejected from the pressurised air inside. A smile graced his features as he gazed at the sole tennis ball-sized sphere that sat inside and internally congratulated himself. That sphere alone was worth exactly 305 echo flowers (courtesy of Frisk’s individual expeditions) and, added to the 4,690 they’d managed to procure from the hotspots, their grand total came to 4,995 flowers. That meant only 45 more (189 if you included the next day) until they’d have enough fuel to get back to a time where they could fix this mess.

 

G whooped in delight as he unceremoniously plopped himself down on the purple tiled floor of his lab.

 

They were close. And it felt amazing to know that, soon, everything would go back to how it had been before.

 

“ **I seE yoU HAve MAde ConSidEraBle ProGreSS**.”

 

G yelped as he abruptly sat up and smashed his head against a low hanging console, cursing as he stumbled out from under his machine. He wasted no time in glowering at his former mentor who stood beside the machine placidly and watched him blankly.

 

“Well, look at who showed up,” G managed to say, wincing as he gingerly touched the site of impact. “What do you want this time?”

 

“ **I muST SpEAk To YoU.** ”

 

“Heh. What else is new?” he muttered, peeved. “You’ve been pretty chatty lately, Gaster. Where was all this need for conversation before, huh?”

 

“ **CoMMuNIcATioN BEFoReHanD WaS UNnecESsary.** ”

 

“Of _course_ it was,” G grated out as he leaned against his workbench and crossed his arms in distaste. “And I guess saving Papyrus like how you saved me was as well.”

 

“ **WaS ThaT a QuesTioN?** ”

 

“No, just…” G closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep, god-give-me-strength breath. “You wanted to talk, right? So talk. I don’t have much time to spare.”

 

Gaster regarded for a long moment in which G had to repeatedly remind himself not to fidget.

 

“ **HAve You GivEN MuCh THouGHT To HoW thiS pREDicAmenT CamE tO Be?** ”

 

G uncrossed his arms and took care to reply slowly, eyeing his former mentor suspiciously the entire time.

 

“Something went wrong with the Core. Everyone disappeared. Not much more to discuss.”

 

“ **WRoNG.** ”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“ **NoT DisAppEARed. TraNspoRted.** ”

 

“Transported where?”

 

“ **AWay**.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“ **TeLL me, Is YoUr mAcHIne linKEd With THe CoRe?** ”

 

“What?” G replied, puzzled and reeling from the sudden change in topic. “No,it has a separate power source. I’m using an old generator from down in the labs but-”

 

“ **WHy?** ”

 

“The Core is unstable. It’s been like that ever since everyone disappeared but Gaster-”

 

“ **SO** **YoU AcKNOwLedgE ThAt thE MaLFunCTioN aNd thE DiSaPPearAncEs arE CorreLaTinG EvEntS**.”

 

“Yeah, of course I do, it’s obvious - they happened within hours of each other - but Gaster, listen-”

 

“ **AnD Yet YoU Did NOt ContinuE wiTH ThiS LinE of InQuirY?** ”

 

“Did you expect me to? There was nothing there, Gaster. I searched the explosion site for days and nothing came up!” G glared at the glitch before him, frustration clear in his features. “Now would you hurry up and tell me what you know already?”

 

There was a long moment of silence before Gaster obliged.

 

“ **ThE CoRE Is KEy** ,” he said, his voice reverberating eerily in the lab. “ **IT is ReSponSibLe FoR ThE AbRupt DiSappEArancE Of ThE MaJORity oF MonstER PoPuLaTIOn**.”

\--

 

_“Frisk.”_

 

Frisk grumbled at the voice, half-heartedly swatting in the general direction of the sound as she attempted to burrow deeper into her blanket.

 

_“Frisk, wake up.”_

 

Begrudgingly, she pried open her eyes to level a chilling glare at whoever was attempting to interrupt her slumber. Instead, she was met with nothing but open air and she let her drowsy eyes rove around the room in search of the owner of the voice.There was the TV and the kitchen and  the golden flower sitting on the table on her right and-

 

Frisk bolted upright and let her blanket fall to the floor.

 

Flower?  Had Asriel returned?

 

Her eyes locked on the place where he’d been sitting mere seconds ago and she couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment when  she found nothing but blank space. However, her frustration was short lived as she almost immediately caught sight of the faintly glowing golden wisps of magic that continued all the way out the newly-opened front door. Her interest piqued, Frisk tentatively touched the little strands of gold and watched in wonder as it did not disappear as she was normally used to but instead coiled comfortably around her wrist and began to gently tug her forward.

 

In a way, it was reminiscent of the red string of fate that Alphys had educated her about in her many enthusiastic speeches on the enchanting nature of human culture. It was said that the red string of fate linked two people who would be destined to meet, regardless of how long it took. The string may stretch or tangle but it would never break.

 

With curiosity taking hold and that memory prominent in her mind, Frisk stood up from the couch, draped her blanket over her shoulders and tiptoed after the golden trail.

\--

 

“The Core did this? How?” G said, his brow furrowing in confusion. “All it does is provide power for the Underground.”

 

“ **AnD HoW ExAcTLy DoeS iT do THAt?** ”

 

“You're the one who built it. You, of all people, should kno-”

 

“ **TeLL mE.** ”

 

G gave a long, exasperated sigh.

 

“Geothermal energy. It takes geothermal energy and converts it into magical electricity.”

 

“ **AnD yoU BeLieVE thAt iS THe SoLE FueL SouRCE?** ”

 

“You don’t?”

 

“ **GEoThErmAL ENERgy  ALone Is IncApAble oF ProVidiNG For OuR ExTensIVe PopULATIon**.”

 

“So what’s the alternate fuel source?”

 

“ **THe EarTH iTsELF.** ”

 

“Are you saying the _ground_ is fuel for the Core?”

 

“ **ThE eARTh conTAiNs an OFten uNtAppeD SourCe oF mAgicAL EnErgY. ThIS EnergY Is AbLE to diStort CerTain PropErTies To Its WhimS** ,” Gaster explained, a hint of exasperation sneaking its way into his voice. “ **HoW ELse WoULD You EXpLAin thRiviNg PLanT LiFe DespIte A LAck Of SunLIght Or The PReSenCe OF SnoW UnDERGRounD?** ”

 

“And you didn’t tell me this before?”

 

“ **I THouGHt You WouLd’ve CoMe To thE OBsErVAtion YoURSElf. ObViousLy, I oVereStimaTed YoU**.”

 

“You-,” G stopped himself and exhaled steadily. Anger wouldn’t get him anywhere. He had to stay calm. “Okay, so the Core has the ability necessary to pull off a mass-disappearance. So how did it actually manage to use it in that way? Did you program it? And why?”

 

“ **I Did NoT proGRAm It. ThE CoRe MAde ThE DeciSioN ITselF**.”

\--

 

Frisk wasn’t going to lie; when she realised that the golden trail merely looped around the back of the house, she was overcome by a pressing wave of disappointment. Would it have been so much to ask to be led to some magical mcguffin? It wouldn’t have been that far-fetched; after all, she _had_ come across a rare, powerful artifact only for it to be promptly absorbed by the annoying dog so being led to a  miraculous solution by an overly convenient glowing string really wouldn’t have been much of a stretch. For a moment, she considered returning indoors and going back to sleep but, as the sound of voices coming from the lab reached her, the thought was dashed in an instant and she was almost automatically treading forward towards the hidden structure.

 

G had never been one to talk to himself and, from what she knew, was not prone to inviting over strangers for a late night chat. Yet, going by the foreign voice that vibrated uncomfortably in her mind, it seemed they had a visitor and whoever they were, she definitely did not know them.

 

The door was cracked slightly ajar and Frisk frowned because she had witnessed for herself how careful G was with locking the door behind him every time. “Habits die hard,” had been his reply when she’d asked him about it and while she groaned and moaned over the infuriating vagueness in his response, she had never pushed the subject any further than that. They all had their secrets and she owed it to him as a friend to respect his need to keep them locked away.

 

As she crept closer, she took care to stay clear of any inconvenient twigs that would announce her presence to the world if she stepped on them. She was sure that if G ever found out that she’d been spying on him conversing with a stranger who was no doubt yet any secret she was not privy to, she would be in for a bad time. And yet even as her mind whispered concerned misgivings, her insatiable curiosity dragged her forward.

\--

 

G stared at Gaster in silence, slack jawed from the sheer impossibility of what his former mentor was implying.

 

“Are you saying the Core is sentient?” G couldn’t help himself from chuckling from disbelief. “Are you serious? How? Did it get a soul somehow?”

 

“ **DOn’T Be StupiD,** **_SaNS_ ** ,” the former scientist snapped and G’s smile was immediately replaced by a scowl. “ **ThiNK. WhAt OTher SourCE oF reaLity-deFying PoWer do You KnoW oF?** ”

 

Despite his outward snarl, G’s mind was hard at work, desperately sifting through his mental files in hope to land upon something substantial. Gaster knew something and, even if he was unimaginably frustrating, the scientist was offering him help and he sure wasn’t about to lose that opportunity. In the midst of his search, his thoughts strayed to Frisk who was basically the poster girl of reality-defying power, and his eyes widened in realisation.

 

“The Determination Extraction Machine.”

 

G instinctively thought back to the time when he’d extracted Frisk from her holding cell down in the secret lab. As he’d passed the DT Extraction Machine, he’d noticed a tangible buzz in the air but he’d just written it down to yet another side-effect of the anomalies. Yet, if Gaster’s theory was true…

 

The skeleton eyed the figure before him dubiously.  There was still something wrong with this equation.

 

“But how? It’s a one-way link between the Core and the machine.”

 

“ **INdeed. It Was** **A mAttEr ThAT WaS QUiCkLy AddREssed By ThE YouNG PRinCE**.”

 

“Flowey played a part in this?”

 

“ **He WAs MorE THAn EAGer To hElp AFter I AidEd hIm In RemEmbeRing mORe UnForTunate TImeLines** ,” Gaster paused to stare pointedly at G. “ **WiTh hiS AssIStAnce,** **estAblishiNg a ComPLeTe LinK WAs a strAightforWard OperAtion.** ”

 

“And then after that, the Core flows into the Determination Extraction Machine, and Determination flows into the Core.”

 

“ **PreCiSeLY.** ”

 

G put his head in his hands and exhaled long and slow, clearly overwhelmed.

 

“How did you even know to do all this?”

 

“ **iT is Of No conSeQuencE tO YoU** ,” Gaster uttered after a lengthy pause. His former protege looked as if he was one stray word away from making something spontaneously combust.

 

“Okay fine,” G didn’t bother hiding the resentful edge in his voice. “The Core has the means to make everyone disappear. Now the question is why.”

 

“ **MuST I AlwAys coRREct You? ThE CorE DiD Not MereLY MAke theM DisAppEAr. It TraNsportEd theM.** ”

 

“Yeah, you’ve told me. Transported. Away. But why? That implies it was running away from somethi-”

 

G’s hands tightened into fists at his sides.

 

“... _Oh_.”  

\--

Frisk stared through the sliver in the doorway, her brow furrowed in confusion. From what she had picked up, G and the stranger were switching topics left and right. First the Core and something about sentience and how it was responsible for the disappearances then the Determination Extraction Machine and sources of reality-altering power and now something about the disappearances not really being disappearances but merely transportations that somehow translated into fleeing? How did they all relate to each other? Frisk’s mind struggled to keep up as she attempted to grapple with the jumbled information while simultaneously ignoring the growing pain at the back of her head.

 

They’d mentioned Asriel, for some reason. Something about the stranger helping him remember unfortunate timelines. What were ‘unfortunate timelines’? Were they talking about the alternate universes she’d been remembering? Frisk winced as her headache gave an especially painful pang. Whatever they were talking about, it was important.

 

As there seemed to be a rather tense lull in the conversation, she shifted slightly to peer at the stranger, her eyes narrowed. He was...odd. In a world where monsters were her friends and diversity was rife, she’d learned to take things in stride but, for some reason, that figure before her rubbed her the wrong way and she wasn’t alone. From what meagre conversation she had heard, she could tell that he and G were definitely not on good terms.

 

“ **NoW Do yOu seE Why shE mUSt LEarn The trUTh?** ” the stranger’s voice seemed to echo impossibly loud in the small room. “ **HeR IgnORAnce iS DanGerouS. We ARe AttempTIng tO pReVEnt reCurreNCEs**.”

 

Frisk’s ears pricked up in surprise. Her? Were they talking about her?

 

“No. I won’t let you,” G grated out stiffly.

 

“ **DO Not Be selFish. ThiS Is for The GooD oF MoNSter KInd. ShE mUsT REmemBer.** ”

 

Remember? Remember _what?_

 

This time, the stab of pain was excruciating and Frisk stumbled back, hissing as her vision began to swim.

 

“She won’t be able to handle it. She’ll _crack_ under the guilt.”

 

“ **HoW Are yOU so SuRE?** ”

 

“Because I know, Gaster! I know what memories can do to someone!”

 

In the silence that followed, Frisk managed to recover from the dizzying spell of pain and she staggered back to the door.

 

“ **...InTeresTinG** ,” the stranger mused and both she and G involuntarily shivered. “ **It SeemS That In MY AbSencE, yoU hAve ReaChed NEw lowS**.”

 

“What are you-”

 

“ **YoU Are ProJEcTing YoUrSeLF onTO HeR** ,” Gaster stated, his tone somehow managing to  sound neutral and mocking at the same time. “ **HoW ArroGAnt caN yOu bE?** ”

 

Frisk stared earnestly at the two of them in confusion. What on _earth_ were they talking about?

 

“Shut up,” G continued and she cringed at the rage laced in his words.

 

“ **ThE HumAn ChiLd is noT yOU.** ”

 

“Shut up!”

 

 **“Do NoT ThiNk ThAt LeaVinG hEr igNORant Of her OWn SeLf is An aCT of MERCY.** ”

 

“Just shut up!” G violently slammed his fist on his workbench and paid no heed to the miscellaneous objects that clattered to his floor, his eye aflame and his jaw clenched tight.

 

“You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” he hissed. “You don’t know what it’s like to wake up and know that anything you do is worthless. You don’t know what it’s like to dread happy endings because you know that every _single_ time, everything will reset. You have no goddamn idea what it’s like to get to the point that you don’t even care because you can’t afford to feel anymore! I'm doing this to protect her!”

 

Frisk was frozen at the door, her fingers digging sharply into its wooden surface as her jaw pulled taut. She had forgotten something crucial. She had forgotten and now that she knew, she was _furious_.  How dare G speak for herself in such a situation! How dare he think that he had the ability to choose for her! Who was he to say that she couldn’t handle owning her own memories! Did he really think she was so weak? Didn’t he trust her?

 

In an instant, Frisk’s self-righteous anger morphed into something much more wretched because of course he didn’t  trust her, not like how she’d trusted him.

 

He probably never had.

 

Crestfallen, her death grip on the door frame relented and her hands fell to her sides.

 

_She was cold._

 

“Don’t you know the saying? Ignorance is bliss,” G’s words seemed to be muffled in the fuzz that was quickly overtaking her mind but they registered nonetheless.

 

And before she realised what she was doing, she was stepping forward and words were tumbling out of her mouth.

\--

 

“Ignorance is bliss but it’s always amiss.”

 

Frisk stood uncertainly in the doorway to his lab, a tight, pained smile plastered on her face and her eyes accusing. G gaped at her silently, his mind frozen in place. His mouth wouldn’t form words but even if he could, he knew they wouldn’t matter at all.

 

She inhaled shakily and the smile fell.

 

“Isn’t that how it goes?”

 

Oh, _god_ _no_.

 

“Frisk, what are you-” G was promptly cut off as he saw Gaster lunge forward and the panic spilled over. “Gaster, don’t you _dare-!_ ”

 

And suddenly, everything was moving in slow motion. Frisk’s eyes were widening in shock as she began to back away, G couldn’t bring himself to move, Gaster’s hands were encircling her face and in an instant, it was done. And, with the thud of Frisk’s limp form hitting the floor, something shattered.

 

G was at her body within seconds, panic clawing at his chest as he raised her up off the floor and stared frantically at her unresponsive face. It took a few seconds to confirm that she was still alive and breathing and then he was whirling around to face Gaster, his features contorted with raging fury.

 

“What the hell did you do?” he hissed.

 

“ **shE is REmembERing** ,” Gaster intoned and the calmness in his voice enraged G beyond any barb.

 

“You-” G bit back the tirade of insults and slurs he was so tempted to hurl in the stupid, impassive face of Gaster and gritted his teeth against the heat of his anger. “You had no right to do that. That wasn’t your move to make.”

 

“ **ExaCTLy** ,” Gaster uttered, forcing G to look up at him in bitter confusion. “ **_I_ ** **aM noT ForCiNg her To RemembER. Chara iS.** ”

 

And with only a few words, G’s rage was replaced by cold, hard dread.

 

“Get out,” he spat when he could once more find his voice.

 

“ **SaNS-** ”

 

“Get out before I force you to,” G snarled, his eye flashing dangerously. “Leave!”

 

“ **...As yOU wiSH** ,” Gaster uttered, his voice hollow with apathy as he seamlessly bled into the shadows. “ **YOu wiLL thAnk me For This LAter**.”

 

After he was sure Gaster had left, G shut his eyes firmly and let out a shuddering breath as he gently cradled Frisk’s limp body in his arms.

 

It would be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO I know you guys are probably sick me by now but HOLY CRAP THIS FIC HAS HIT 160 KUDOS. Thank you guys so much for all your support!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T KILL ME. I know that this chapter is super super late - even more than it usually is - and I'd just like to apologise and explain. I've been going through a bit of a crisis due to a newly started project AND I really wanted to get this chapter just right before I posted it so yeah, it took a while. Thank you for being so patient and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES MENTION OF SELF-LOATHING, GRIEF AND DEPRESSION. IT ALSO HEAVILY IMPLICATES ATTEMPTED SUICIDE. IF THESE ARE AT ALL TRIGGERING PLEASE DO NOT READ.

 

Frisk was floating. It took a few seconds for her to understand that; she was still reeling from her realisation and the supposedly immediate change in setting was confusing. Bewildered, she stared around at the surrounding darkness. 

 

_ What was going on?  _

 

One minute, she was in G’s lab with that stranger lunging towards her and the next she was suspended in a murky expanse of black. Frisk’s face scrunched up with resentment at the thought of G. She had heard enough to know that whatever he had been keeping from her was important and the realisation that he still didn’t trust her enough to inform her about it stung. 

 

_ What gave him the right to do that? It was her life, nobody else’s.  _

 

A peal of laughter echoed through the darkness and suddenly, Frisk was falling.

 

Her breath was knocked out of her as she collided with the ground. Gingerly, she sat up to find herself lying on a familiar bed of golden flowers. Baffled, she looked down at herself in surprise. 

 

_ What the- _

 

Her chains and tattered clothing were nowhere to be seen; in their place were her old clothes that she had long since grown out of. Her body had shrunk to the size of a child and, as she wiggled her appendages tentatively, they were completely operative. For all intents and purposes, she had seemed to shot back in time.

 

“Hello.”

 

A child who was nearly identical to her stood before her, their hand outstretched to help her up. They were uncannily similar to the point where their only distinguishing features were their eyes and clothes. Frisk’s mouth fell open at the odd sight then quickly snapped shut. It was rude to stare.

 

“My name is Chara.”

 

The child - Chara - gave a wide grin. Dimples indented into their ruddy cheeks and Frisk thought that it was a rather cute sight.

 

“I’m Frisk.” 

 

As she took Chara’s hand, Frisk shivered as an all too familiar chill crawled down her spine. Suddenly suspicious, Frisk’s eyes darted from their hands clasped together in a handshake towards Chara’s face. They smiled sweetly up at her.

 

“Nice to meet you, Frisk,” Chara shook her hand vigorously. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun.”

 

And with that, Chara disappeared and in her place stood Toriel. For a moment, Frisk was lost, her eyes still searching around for her doppelganger, but her attention was ripped away once she stopped to glance at the former monster queen. Toriel was doubled over in pain, a large gash split into her side and no matter how hard she tried, Frisk could not move a muscle. Her blood went cold.

 

“Now I see who I was protecting by keeping you here,” Toriel uttered, trembling, and her words cut through Frisk’s mind like a buzzsaw. “Not you...but them!”

 

Frisk backed away in horror, hands clasped over her mouth in a vain attempt to keep herself from screaming as she witnessed her surrogate mother turn into nothing more than a pile of dust. Then there was a weight in her hands and suddenly her world was flickering on and off like somebody was toying with the lightswitch to reality. Abruptly, it all went still and her eyes landed upon the shiny glint of a knife in her grasp. 

 

The world exploded into noise. Frisk stumbled back in shock, somehow unable to discard her knife, as memories came flooding back in frightening detail. Monsters came and went, frozen in the throes of death, and screamed, pleaded, sent words rattling into her brain with the forcefulness of a speeding train. She barely had a second to register their frantic cries before they were being replaced by another familiar face.

 

_ Please, don’t do it! _

 

_ I don’t want to die! _

 

_ I’m begging you-! _

 

Frisk fell to her knees and screamed with them, her own pleas drowned underneath their thunderous roar. The knife sang in her grasp and then there was dust, dust, dust, until she was choking under it. Hysterical, she barely noticed his presence until it was too late.

 

_ “What’s with that face?” _

 

Pink slippers shuffled to a stop before her and her blood went cold. Even as her body was springing up, unbidden, possessed by a power that wasn’t hers, Frisk was struggling to get away because she knew what was going to happen and she didn't want to see this, why was she seeing this - please, someone help her - she didn't want to see this! Sans regarded her icily, his white pupils disappearing into the darkness of his eye sockets. Behind him, a giant gaster blaster reared its head, a bright core of light coalescing in its fanged maw. 

 

_ “Too late for regrets now, kid,”  _ he whispered and his eye ignited into a blue, furious flame.

 

Before the thought of escape had even finished forming in her mind, the beam of light was shredding through her, tearing away her skin and muscle with excruciating ease and she was  _ screaming _ . Searing pain swamped her senses to the brim; she was blinded, her entire frame burning with a scorching fire that ate away at her lungs. Vainly, she attempted to steady herself but abruptly found a cluster of bones sprouting underneath her feet and then she was being thrown, her heart changing to a startling, icy blue and she was falling, falling, falling.

 

The golden tiles of Judgement Hall fell away into the darkness and Frisk was plummeting, her hair inadvertently whipping up as air rushed past. Their voices dived after her, words jumbling together to roar in her ears. In her mind's eye, she could see them converging together into a giant claw that reached to snatch her out of the air and panic was rising in her throat like bile. As she felt them wrap around her ankle, she screeched and wrenched herself away, hissing as a fresh bolt of pain shot up her leg but despite it all, a shrill, triumphant laugh ripped itself from her hollow lungs and she whooped with a zeal that she did not own because she couldn’t be stopped, she was free, she was falling -

 

Her laughter shrivelled and died in her throat. She was falling.

  
  
  


Frisk hit the bottom with a sickening thud. Body screaming from pain, she merely stared up into the darkness, groaning quietly, and watched as the world spun on its axis because there was nothing else she could do. Howling gales of wind swept through, permeating through her ragged clothing until she was overcome by forceful shudders. The world felt shapeless, endless, and most of all, empty. Frisk’s eyes widened sharply.

 

She blinked once, twice, and then there was a tear rolling down her cheek, followed by another and another until she was weeping, her chin digging into her chest and her fingers biting into the skin of her shoulders. Shuddering sobs heaved at her chest as she willed for it all to just stop, hands shooting up to painfully dig into her scalp.

 

The silence, in all of its simplicity, had broken her.

 

Her head pounded with their screams and their whispers were scrambling her mind, dizzying her with their terror until it felt like she was wandering, lost in a dangerous, barbed haze.

 

And suddenly, a chill pierced through the haze, sending cracks branching through until it shattered into a million shards.

 

As the thin fragments fell to dust, they revealed Chara who stood in the hailstorm of broken memories without a care in the world. Frisk looked up at them in a mixture of trepidation and horror as she scuttled backwards in a pathetic excuse of a retreat.

 

“You-I-” she stuttered as she stumbled over her own feet. “Why did I do that? I didn’t-I don’t know-”

 

Chara looked at her as if she was stupid and snorted, their lips quirking upwards into a scornful smirk. 

 

“Idiot,” they mocked cruelly. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

 

And the next thing Frisk knew, Chara was driving a knife straight into her gut. She barely had time to be shocked before the blood was frothing in her mouth and dribbling down her chin. With white-hot pain frying her nerves, Frisk couldn’t do anything but scrabble at her assailant in futile resistance. Chara eyed her with glee, her eyes no longer red but bottomless pits of darkness that spilled out and trickled down her cheeks in a mockery of tears.

 

“Since when were you in control?”

\--

Frisk jolted awake, her chest heaving. A dream, she told herself as she vainly tried to steady her erratic breaths. It was a dream. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. It couldn’t have been.

 

The room was closing in. It was too tight, too confined and she couldn’t breathe, she was choking on nothing. Despite her efforts, her breaths were getting quicker, shorter, more desperate. She tore at her hair, gasps translating into deranged whimpers as brown eyes stared wide at nothing.

 

They are dreams. They are dust.

 

Frisk’s eyeballs bulged inside her skull. Her chin dug into her chest. The air in her lungs was swallowed by a high, fracturing keening. Her teeth grated against each other like the screeching rasp of rusty machinery. A familiar, mockingly hopeful voice rose above the clamour that roared in her ears. 

 

_ I believe in you! _

 

A guttural scream ripped itself from her lungs and snapped in half. 

 

She kicked away from the couch and staggered into a wall, reeling. Her throat was burning with jagged pleas and her cheeks were drenched with a cascade of tears. Her vision swam and blurred into  _ their _ faces, hollow skeletons of who they used to be, which screamed barbs in face of chaos. Somewhere behind the fog, somebody shouted her name and took her by the shoulders.

 

She shoved herself away from them with flailing punches and kicks.

 

“Don’t touch me!” she screeched, her sobs making her words nigh intelligible. 

 

She backed herself against the wall and wrapped her arms tight around her, willing to stem the tears.

 

Why was this happening? Oh god, why?

 

It was only when she heard the sharp intake of air from the monster who stood stiffly before her that she realised she had voiced her thoughts. They lowered themselves slowly into a crouch and as Frisk peered through her web of fingers, she saw that it was G. 

 

She shut her eyes and gritted her teeth against the onslaught of hiccuping breaths that shook her body. He was too similar. She couldn't escape.

 

“You remember.”

 

A statement. Not a question. Yet even still, Frisk’s head lolled from side to side in disagreement. She had always known. Somewhere. Somehow. 

 

“I killed them,” she whispered hoarsely.

 

“Frisk-”

 

“I destroyed them all,” she managed to gasp out between the sudden lump in her throat. Deep inside, her stomach roiled with disgust. Her memories were bubbling and boiling, scorching her throat with white-hot hate and then they were spilling out and she was vomiting. Her chest heaved with far too loud thumps that only barely served to remind her that she was alive. Painfully, undeservingly alive. Fresh tears dribbled down her cheeks as thin wails squeezed past her closed throat and struggled into the air.

 

Beside her, G grimaced in pity. He held onto her gently, rubbing her back even as her stomach heaved and rolled on empty air. Gradually, her rasping gasps smoothed into hiccuping breaths and just as he began to relax, she tilted up to eye him coldly.

 

“You  _ knew _ .” Even as her eyes swam with tears, he could still see the fury raging on inside.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“But you didn’t tell me.”

 

“No, I didn’t.”

 

Frisk slapped him away, her eyes wide with anger. Her sorrow was curling inside her gut and festering, transforming into something sour.

 

“You’re not even going to deny it?” she asked incredulously. G held her gaze, steadfast.

 

“Did you expect me to?”

 

Frisk’s jaw pulled tight as something inside ignited and promptly exploded. The bitterness inside flared up and spread, scalding the edges of her lungs.

 

“It would be par for the course for you, wouldn’t it?” Her lips curled into a cruel smile. “It’s just lies with you isn’t it? Lies and secrets and hate.”

 

G’s eyes narrowed in some untold emotion.

 

“This isn’t you,” he muttered.

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t know what she told you, Frisk, but you didn’t do anything, okay?” he stepped forward and gripped her in a steel-like vice. “Listen to me.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Frisk wrenched herself out of his grasp.

 

“You didn’t kill them, Frisk. Chara did,” G eyed her levelly, his body tense and his eyes wary. “Chara took over your body. You didn’t do a thing.”

 

Frisk stared at him silently as his words wrapped themselves around her mind like a suffocating plastic bag.

 

_ Chara took over your body. You didn’t do a thing. _

 

_ You didn’t do a thing. _

 

_ You didn’t do a  _ damn _ thing. _

 

Frisk went to laugh but it came out strangled and warped.

 

“Exactly,” she hissed, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “I didn’t do a thing to stop her from destroying everything. Who’s to say that I didn’t want it in the first place?”

 

“Don’t you dare say that.” G’s voice was dangerously low and Frisk hated the tremble in her hands. 

 

“Or what? You’ll kill me? What would that make it? I lost count,” she snarled, smirking at G’s stony expression. “You said it just right, G. I didn’t do a thing to stop Chara so what makes me any better? What makes me any different?”

 

“You aren’t anything like her!” he snarled and something inside her snapped. Flooded by a deepset chill, Frisk yanked him forward until their faces were merely inches apart.

 

“Are you sure about that,  **_Sans_ ** ?”

 

In an instant, G’s flinty expression transformed into something terrifying and Frisk found herself staggering backwards in something akin to fear, attention fixed on the golden flame that blazed around his eye. She giggled mirthlessly but it was weak and crumbled the moment it reached her ears.

 

“There,” she managed to croak out, her throat suddenly dry. “That’s the look I was searching for.”

 

G held her gaze for a moment longer before looking away, bright sparks dancing around around his eye socket. She bit her tongue. This was what she had wanted. She had forced him to it. And yet, it hadn’t done anything but make her feel worse. Frisk shut her eyes tight, her nails digging painfully into her palm, and tried not to cry.

 

It was her fault. It was all her fault.

 

A stifled sob escaped, unbidden, from her lips and then she was rushing past G and into the Underground.

 

\--

  
  


When G found her, Frisk was no longer herself.

 

She stood underneath the hole through which she had fallen into this world years ago and she stared up into the dark. G didn’t say a word. She knew he was there.

 

“Why am I alive?” she said and she waited.

 

“Frisk-”

 

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” 

 

Her fists trembled at her sides.

 

“Why?” she repeated, louder, and her voice shook. “Why the hell am I  _ still _ here?”

 

“Because you deserve to be.”

 

“No, I  _ don’t _ ,” she hissed, whirling around to glare at him icily. “Don’t you dare pretend to think that I still have the right to live. You owe it to them to kill me over and over until I stop coming back!”

 

“No. Not you.”

 

“Why?” she shrieked, her voice bordering on hysteria. “You know what I’ve done. You always have! And yet you’re so much of a coward that you’ve never even tried to address the problem!”

 

“Frisk-”

 

“No! Shut up! You-” Frisk tore at her hair in frustration as she levelled a hateful gaze at G. “Why don't you get it? I’m the reason you’re still here! I’m the reason why, somewhere, all of you are dead!”

 

“You weren't that person. You still aren't.”

 

“No, I'm far worse than that. I'm the person who let it happen,” she hissed, whipping her arm out to jab at him ferociously.  “I’m the one that watched them die! Watched them turn into dust at my feet! Watched as they became numbers! I made them all irrelevant! I let them become nothing more than a stupid statistic!” she spat violently, revolted.

 

Then the hard lines of her anger pulled taut. Her hands fell to her side.

 

“I-” She took a deep breath, flinching despite herself at the tremble that squeezed her chest far too tightly. 

 

“I broke it,” she whispered. “I tore down everything that I loved. I just stood by and-and let it fall to pieces.”

 

“Please,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “Just kill me. Because if you don’t-!” she paused to suck in air. “If you don’t, it’ll happen again. And this time, there won’t be any second chances.”

 

For a long moment, all that passed between them was a howling gale of wind that scattered pebbles, sending them skittering away across the hard ground .

 

“Prove it. Make me understand,” G whispered.

 

Everything went dead calm as her eyes locked onto the knife G was holding out to her. 

 

“End it,” he said simply. 

 

Thoughts ran circles around each other in her mind.

 

Frisk twitched.

 

In an instant, the knife was in her hands and she was pinning G to the cold ground, her lips dry and chapped. Air was wheezing out of her, whistling high and splintered. There was a film of red covering everything she saw and it numbed away the pain in her chest. Frisk licked her lips. All she could feel was the weight of the blade, the sharp serrated edge as she ran a cursory finger over it, the  _ zzang _ of the metal as air rushed past in a burst. 

 

She could kill him - she knew she could - and Chara’s voice was goading her on. It would be so easy. She could hear it now, the beautiful crunch of bones similar to that of the snapping of wet branches in a fire, the brittle laughter that heaved at her chest, the feeling of red on her fingers as she drove the dagger down again and again and tore up the earth in chunks.

 

The knife was slippery in her grip. Her breaths were coming out in short, ragged gasps.

 

Proof. She was doing this for proof. To force him into it. To wake him up to the nightmare she surrounded herself in. To make him understand.

 

She was doing this for them.

  
Frisk laughed, loud and shrill, but not of her own volition and her jaw snapped shut. Her eyes were wide, unfocused. This was not her. She was not in control.

 

_ Had she ever been? _

 

G stared up at her, a mild curiosity - a suspicion - sparking in his eye but he made no move to escape. He trusted her. Oh god, he  _ trusted _ her! She opened her mouth in warning but nothing more than a strangled keening escaped her, a high squeaking groan 

that knotted and shredded into pieces. 

 

Something - someone - stirred in the darkest recesses of her mind and then the shadow was pulled away and there they were, lips pulled into a gleeful grin. One hand was secured tightly around Frisk’s neck, the other holding her wrist in a death grip and Frisk winced at the bite of their fingernails piercing her skin.

 

Frisk could feel them framing her body, she could hear their breathing come and go in time with hers. And then a whisper.

 

_ You know what to do. _

 

The memories were scrambling back, vivid, painful. Blue flames, beams of scorching bright light, the excruciating tear of meat and bone as Frisk felt her body go through a hundred battles all at once. An aching chill frosted within her and mixed with Chara’s triumphant joy, it grew, branching out in the pit of her stomach and stabbing at her insides until it  felt as though the cold was burning her inside out. Her eyes were rubies in her eye sockets and they were melting, dripping away garnets that rolled down her cheeks and scratched at her skin.

 

The hilt of the knife was snug in the valleys of her palms. It thrummed, giving off a reverberating echo that seemed to send tickling shocks up her spine.

 

_ Right where it belongs. _

 

Her hands were shaking. She could tell because the knife was clanking in her grasp as she lifted it high above her head, her muscles coiled to spring. The erratic thump of her heartbeat rang loud in her ears. In her drunken, red-tinged haze, Frisk made the mistake of looking down and froze. G stared up at her, his face impassive and his eyes locked on hers, and then he was Sans, blue fire weakly flickering around his eye, a sad resigned grin plastered on his face.

 

_ What are you waiting for? _

 

Oh.

 

Oh  _ no _ .

 

A mixture of confusion, shock and horror clouded her mind. What was she doing? Chara’s encouragement quickly turned into enraged protests as they attempted to suppress Frisk’s thoughts but their efforts were in vain. Alarm bells flooded through Frisk’s mind, filling every spare space with a maelstrom of panic. While the chaos raged on in her mind, her eyes darted around in a frenzy in a terror, unsure of where to look.

 

Her mouth went dry as her eyes alighted on the knife clasped in her hands, her breath hitching as she eyed it in horror. She could see them reflected in the sheen of her blade. She could feel them crawling under her fingertips, she could hear them chant their mantra: “Kill, kill, kill, kill!” She could taste the dust and the blood and it was almost as if she was dying already. 

 

Voices echoed in her mind.

 

_ End it. _

 

_ You know what to do. _

 

_ What are you waiting for? _

 

Words rattled around her skull, ricocheting off of each other like bullets. Deep inside, Chara’s taunts quieted and were instead replaced by cautious prodding that grew into screams the moment the thought solidified in her mind. Frisk held a knife in her hands, a weapon that prickled with the memory of death. In an instant, her panic was replaced by a fragile calm. She knew what she had to do. Her grip on the blade was secure. Eyes fixed on the blade in her grasp, Frisk exhaled painstakingly slow. 

 

_ End it. _

 

**_End it all_ ** _. _

 

Chara was screeching in her ear and there was a feeling of being torn away from her own body like being roughly ejected from a plane, but Frisk struck out in cold determination and shot back into place.  She had felt the jolt of surprise and heard the pained groan but she merely dug her chin into her chest and rooted herself down. This was it, this was the end, and Frisk wasn’t going to let anyone stop her. 

 

She could feel G’s eyes boring into her but she wouldn’t allow herself to return his gaze. This moment was precious. Fragile. Her mouth was dry, her forehead sweaty. Frisk scrunched her eyes up tight. She couldn’t falter.

 

She brought the knife up and, at that moment, the world was overcome by a perfect moment of complete silence. Just for a second, she hung there, listening. It was a pure nothing. A complete lack of anything that shattered the second she let the blade fall. There it was, a name - her name - being screamed so brittle, the knife sweeping down in a smooth graceful arc and Frisk was underwater. But then she was being knocked to the ground, the knife slapped out of her grasp, and she was weeping because for all that she was, she still couldn’t do it.

 

Whimpers unknowingly escaped her, hindered by her stuttering sobs that shook and staggered like an unruly heartbeat. She writhed on the ground; her body wracked with punitive shudders so powerful she could feel every inch of her skin tingle with a charge that sparked painfully around her hollow frame. Words were being flung from every direction, none of them making any sense, and confusion swamped over her in waves, muddling her senses until nothing made sense. For a second, everything pulled into sharp, bright focus and then-

 

_ I’m not done with you yet. _

 

Frisk chest pulled tight and she gasped for air, feeling as if her heart was being slowly dragged out of her. Her body thrashed, her limbs snapping out in violent jabs, but the pain abruptly stopped and she slumped down onto the ground in bone-aching exhaustion. Frisk savoured her brief respite for all of a few seconds until the world was spinning once more and G came into view. His face was stricken with alarm, his eyes tight with regret, and he was gripping her arms so tight she almost cried out. She stared up at him in exhausted desperation.

 

“You shouldn’t have stopped me.” Her voice cracked. “Why did you stop me?” 

 

“Why did I stop y-” he spluttered. “Christ, kid, you were about to do something stupid!”

 

In an instant, her exhausted expression contorted with rage. Her features which had only a few seconds ago been relaxed in tired sorrow hardened into a snarl.

 

“I just want to die! Why won’t you let me die?” she screeched, struggling against his hold on her. “I took the knife! I was there, I wanted to kill you, I could’ve and I still can so please - I’m begging you - please just KILL ME!”

 

“Frisk, I can’t -”

 

“Why not?!” Her outburst was bordering on hysteria. “You’ve done it before; you can do it again!”

 

She surged up, wrenching her arms from his grasp, and clutched at G’s skull, her thumbs digging into the bone of his eye socket. Her desperate eyes bored burning holes into him.

 

“Do it!” she screamed. “Please. For me! For all of them! I just-!”

 

Frisk’s head fell, even as she hung onto G, her shoulders shaking.

 

“I can’t take it,” she croaked out. “I just can’t. You don’t get it. I can hear them and they’re  _ screaming _ . And it hurts and it's scary because I don’t even know who is who - I don’t even know if I care - I can’t make them matter anymore! I’m so cold. I just want it to stop. All I want is -I just-”

 

“- I just want to  _ burn _ .”

 

She flinched as he took her into his arms but didn’t try to resist. What was the point?

 

“I could’ve done it myself.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I had the knife. I could’ve ended it. But you stopped me.”

 

“And I’ll do it again.”

 

She squeezed her eyes shut.

 

“I’ll hate you.”

 

“Alright. If that’s what keeps you alive, then I won’t mind.”

 

“Shut up. You’re a selfish coward,” she snapped. “You want them all to be happy but you don’t do a thing to help. You want to save them but you can’t do it because you’re too weak. You love them so much that your heart swells when you think of them but then you hurt them over and over again until there’s nothing left and all you have is their screams in your head!”

 

Tears dripped from her eyes like a leaky faucet. 

 

“You’re  _ worthless _ ,” she hissed and then she was crying, each sob rattling through her body like an electric shock. 

 

 

 

Within her mind, a wildfire sputtered out of life, giving one valiant pop of heat before sinking into the darkness. 

 

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into his jacket, her voice rising in pitch until her voice cracked. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

 

“Why did they have to go? I never wanted them gone.” Her words were muffled in the cover of his coat but he could still hear the grief in her voice. “I want them back. I need them back.” 

 

She shivered, one more sob slipping through her lips, and then-

 

“ _ It hurts so much. _ ”

 

G held her tighter and said nothing.

\--

 

In time, Frisk managed to find a restless sense of calm, the type where you always knew it wouldn’t last but you were persistent to make the most of it anyway. Her tears had finally ceased and they’d dried into itchy encrustations on her cheeks that she picked away at as if they were scabs. Her legs felt numb folded beneath her and her grip on G, while still secure, was loosening. She was slipping. And perhaps he could tell because the next thing she knew, her hands were sliding off of him and he was stood before her, one hand clasped around hers like a gallant prince asking for a dance. 

 

She would’ve laughed at the prospect, if she could’ve. 

 

Frisk was tired. Exhaustion crept at the fringes of her mind, threatening her with the prospect of sleep and the inevitable nightmares that would come forthwith. Her limbs were limp and floppy, her eyes staring at nothing. The prospect of getting up was suddenly an insurmountable feat. However, when G crouched down, faced towards her in a gentle expectancy, Frisk obediently wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed herself to be swept up off the ground and into his embrace. 

 

\--

 

G was warm. Secure. Which was strange since he was a skeleton and therefore couldn’t biologically give off body heat but Frisk ignored that and opted to hold onto him tighter. She adored the warmth. It was comforting - just how an embrace from a loved was - and it banished away the deep set chill in her bones with ease. She was held to him by that alone. It was blissful.

 

Her breath hitched. She didn’t deserve this.

 

She was crying again but this time there was no drive behind it. Thick, gluggy tears rolled lazily down her cheeks and she didn’t try to catch them. Her tears were nothing. She was nothing.

 

As especially appeasing wave of warmth eased a breathless sigh from her lips. She smiled, thin and brittle. G was doing his best to help her through this and she treasured him for it. 

 

Gradually, her breaths began to sync with his rhythmic plod. He was gentle and steady and warm. He was a friend.

 

Frisk watched numbly as the ground passed underneath her and, when her eyes got tired, listened instead. She heard the soft thumps of G’s boots in the snow of Snowdin come and go as did the distinctive crunch of Waterfall’s rocky pebble-strewn path. She was still waiting for the echoing clang of Hotland’s pipes when G abruptly halted. With great difficulty, she pried open her eyes and couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from her lips as she drank in the sight before her. 

 

The sky - not the ceiling but the  _ sky _ \- glittered with the enthusiasm of a thousand stars and, as she stared at the faraway specks of light, she somehow knew that they were real, that these were genuine bodies of fire and gas. The sky was peppered with them; it was as if a careless child had accidentally spilled their little jar of glitter on the inviting canvas of the entire universe. The castle, which sat sturdily on its distant outcrop, was bathed in an ethereal light and was beginning to resemble the palaces she’d often read about in fairytales. Inexplicably, Frisk found herself drawn towards the sight and, as if he read her mind, G gently set her down on the ground. She was transfixed, mesmerised by the swirling colours that graced their sky, little wisps of pink and blue and purple and green that seemed to form a patchworked shroud over the galaxy. The stars peeked out from underneath the cover of the vibrant clouds, twinkling ever bright in the Underground’s perpetual darkness. 

 

She had seen this before, she realised with a painful flip of her stomach. During another timeline that had taken a twist for the worse, she had stood here, warm in the embrace of a dusty fur-lined jacket with a knife snug in her grip, and she had challenged them all, daring them to strike her down then and there. 

 

Frisk was trembling as she lowered herself into an unsteady crouch and hugged her knees tight. Her breathing was staggered again, her thoughts scattered and her stubby fingernails tore little holes in her black threadbare tights. Then a rustle, a weight settling nearby and all of a sudden, a bony hand prying her fingers away from her skin and taking hers in its grasp. For a second, she was as still as a statue, her eyes widened unimaginably large, but then her eyelids were slipping shut and she was shifting so that she could rest her head in the crook of his neck. From underneath long eyelashes, she peered at their hands clasped together tight and breathed, long and slow.

  
  


It was a while before her breathing slowed into a steady rhythm, her hand fell limp and G finally took her home.

\--

 

The next day, Frisk woke up cold. Her tongue was dry, her cheeks itchy from dried tears. 

 

She felt hollow.

 

\--

 

G tapped a pencil against the crack in his skull and gazed at the blueprint paper spread out before him on the kitchen counter. For all intents and purposes, he seemed to be entirely transfixed by the half finished design in front of him and normally, he would be. After all, it wasn’t as if the internal machinations of a fourth dimension-spanning propulsion unit were exactly boring. But these weren’t normal circumstances and his mind was elsewhere. Absently, he glanced at the nearby knife block, one of its inhabitants mysteriously absent, and gave a long suffering sigh, placing his head in his hands as he did. Yesterday...oh  _ god _ , yesterday. Where would you even begin?

 

In the hours following Frisk’s abrupt entry into her comatose-like state, there’d been a strange sense of tranquility. Somehow, he’d always known that she’d find out one way or another and now that it was happening, he was oddly accepting of the fact. And so, he’d quietly bundled her up in blankets, placed her gently on the couch and went to work. 

 

There wasn’t much to do. G realised that soon. There was no accounting for what would happen when she woke up therefore any preparation on his part would be pointless. So he settled for locking away the knives and sat down for the long wait. That was the calm before the storm.

 

And,  _ man _ , was it a hurricane.

 

She’d been distraught. Furious. Guilty. He’d anticipated that. But it had still hit him like a speeding train. And his unruly flames hadn’t helped matters. The moment they’d appeared, he’d seen the fear, the hurt. He’d wanted to rip out his own eyes. 

 

And the debacle with the knife...oh god, what a  _ mess. _ He didn’t know what truly possessed him to bring it; there was just that desperate need to show her that she wasn’t as awful as she’d declared herself to be. But  _ that _ had backfired horribly and just blown up in his face - just like everything else in his life. 

 

But then there’d been the stars. They’d helped.

 

G blinked slowly and groaned, low and quiet. 

 

It was late.

\--

 

G had only just resumed his work on his blueprint when Frisk walked into the kitchen. At the sound of her footsteps, he looked up from his equations - all of which he knew were wrong - and plastered on a mask of casual indifference as his eyes alighted on her gaunt figure.

 

She looked absolutely awful. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her lips chapped and her sallow skin seemed to be stretched tight over her bones.

 

He gave her a small smile to which she didn’t bother to respond.

 

“‘Morning,” he said. “Food’s in the fridge if you want it.”

 

She stared at him wordlessly and made no move to leave the door frame.

 

“Not hungry?” he smiled amicably. “Or are you just sick of hot dogs?”

 

The grin felt unnatural. He wavered at her silence.

 

“Chatty, aren’t we?”

 

“Stop it.”

 

Her voice was hoarse and thick.

 

“What?”

 

“Stop pretending yesterday didn’t happen. I don’t need it.”

 

G stared at her in stunned silence, at a loss for words. She gazed back in full force, tightlipped, as her hands bunched up the material of her shorts.

 

“I get what you’re trying to do but please just - “ Frisk bit her lip. “Don’t make it easier for me to run away from this.”

 

She looked away, her lips twisted into a bitter scowl.

 

“I’ve done enough of that already.”

 

G swallowed and let his eyes fall to the floor.

 

“Right,” he whispered.

 

For a long moment, all that passed between them was silence. Then Frisk shifted and began shuffle towards him. As she neared, G tensed but he made no indication to move, suddenly hyper-aware of the knife block situated to his right. But she expressed no interest in it. In fact, she kept her eyes trained straight ahead as she crouched down, opened a cupboard and withdrew a mug. The ceramic of the cup clinked loudly against her trembling fingers. As she moved towards the sink, she glanced at the blueprint spread out behind him. In the span of a second, curiosity transformed into recognition and her eyes narrowed once more.

 

“Because of me -” she paused to clear her throat. “Because of me, we’re behind schedule. Aren’t we?”

 

At this, G turned to look at her to see her doing the same for him. They regarded each other for a moment.

 

“Yeah,” he murmured.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

Frisk had finally filled her mug and now she stiffly stood in front of the sink, her back to G. He gritted his teeth. She was still shaking. 

 

“It’s only been a day,” he went on to say. “It won’t take long to make up for it.”

 

“Then let’s go.” 

 

She slammed her mug on the counter and began to stride out the door.

 

“Wait, Frisk-” 

 

Without thinking, he shot forward and caught her by the wrist. She stiffened, her entire body seizing up and, like a flash, she’d violently wrenched herself out of his grip. Frisk glared at him, eyes narrowed into slits, as she tentatively massaged the area where he’d touched her.

 

“What?” she snapped.

 

“Are you-” G stopped and stared at her, taking in the sight of his former friend practically shying away from his very presence. His gaze dropped to the floor. 

 

“Nothing.”

 

The harshness melted out of her and for a moment, Frisk reached out to touch him. But she faltered, her hand stilling then falling to her side, and shuffled away.

 

\--

Frisk’s bones felt like twigs.

 

She gritted her teeth against the tremor in her step. She was fine, she told herself. She could handle this.

 

She whipped open the door, her mind made, only to freeze in shock. 

 

She could hear them.

 

She could hear them all.

 

It was like she’d just opened the dam and now they were flooding through her. She could feel them curling around her heart, threading into it and pulling so tight it felt like it could shatter into pieces at any moment. Their whispers which weaved in and out of coherence, were simultaneously as smooth as silk and as grating as the sound of fingernails dragging down a chalkboard. And the guilt - it weighed down until she felt like Atlas with the world balanced on his shoulders, cursed to strain under its weight for eternity. 

 

Frisk blinked and forced herself to breathe.

 

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed and then they surged forward like a tidal wave.

 

She shut her eyes tight and slammed the door shut in their faces, whipping around to press her back against it so that not even the tiniest whisper would reach her. And then she slid to floor, her hands covering the top of her head as if she expected to be struck, her knees drawn up to her chin, and began to whisper to herself.

 

“It’s okay,” she mumbled even as her eyes began to burn with the beginnings of tears. “It’s okay. It’s okay, you’re going to be okay, everything is going to be okay. It’s alright, we’ll be fine, we can fix this, this is-”

 

_ This is  _ exactly _ what you deserve. _

 

She clenched her teeth and dug her chin into her chest but even as she attempted to block it all out, Frisk couldn’t bring herself to disagree.

\--

 

“Frisk, what happened? What’s wrong?” G crouched down, eyes darting furiously to catch any glimpse of her face. “Frisk?”

 

“It hurts,” Frisk began to shake. “I’m sorry.”

 

G’s expression melded into something indescribable and he drew her into a tentative hug. He could feel his sweater dampening from her tears, as his eyes locked onto something far far away.

 

“I know,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

  
  
  


At length, they unanimously decided to spend the rest of the day at home. 

\--

 

Days passed at a sluggish pace.

 

Frisk spent her time as an empty husk.

 

G spent his time working on the time machine.

 

Neither Flowey nor Gaster made an appearance.

 

G didn’t know how to feel about that.

 

\--

  
  
  
  


Frisk was underwater.

 

She moved in slow motion. The sounds around her were muffled and shapeless. 

 

She was drowning in an invisible ocean.

  
  
  
  


\--

 

G hated them for doing this to her. They’d turned her into nothing but an empty shell that wandered around with a familiar face. 

 

On good days, she came to him and sat nearby, never touching but close enough. She would watch him in quiet thoughtfulness and, at some point or another, would take her leave.

 

On bad days, he was invisible. She acted as if he simply did not exist. And no matter how hard he persisted, she would not speak to him. 

 

It was like she had become a completely different person.

 

\--

  
  
  


Frisk remembered seeing tadpoles in a pond. 

 

She had read about them, about how the tadpoles would emerge from their egg and grow various appendages until they were a fully fleshed frog that would hop away in search for another home.

 

She thought to herself that she felt a lot like a tadpole, stuck in her egg, suffocating. 

  
  


\--

 

G knew about the stages of grief far too well. And yet, here he was, completely unable to help his friend through a period of life that he was uncannily experienced in.

 

Although, really, how were you supposed to act when you were the one being grieved?

 

\--

  
  


They didn’t mean to hurt. 

 

Their words were merely clips from memories that swirled around in her mind. Conversations, brief encounters and, now and then, a dying scream. 

 

Frisk hated that she had grown used to them. 

 

_ Would you like a biscuit? I found them under my bed so they’ve got character! _

 

_ Here, have a present! No, don’t worry. We’ve got an infinite supply! _

 

_ Have you met the snowman back there? He’s a pretty cool guy. Haha, oh that was terrible. _

 

_ No, please! I don’t want to die! I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone I promise - I won’t ever come near you again - just please don’t - ! _

 

The strangled cry that followed rattled around in her skull, rising in pitch so that it was far too loud in her ears and then-

 

Silence.

 

Frisk bit her lip so hard it began to bleed.

 

They didn’t meant to hurt. And somehow, that made it all the more painful.

  
  


\--

 

He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. 

 

He should’ve been more careful. More cautious. 

 

He’d gotten careless. He’d found a solution and he’d been so floored by that incredible realisation that he’d dropped his guard.

 

When he realised that Gaster had most likely intended that to happen, G nearly burned down the lab.

 

\--

  
  


Frisk had thought that grief was loud and messy, screaming with tears and unheard pleas. And, to be fair, that had indeed happened but what she soon discovered was that, for the most part, it was just empty.

 

Empty of sadness, anger, any feeling at all. Just...empty.

  
  


\--

 

Anger wasn’t a foreign emotion to G. He’d grown accustomed to it and the inevitable accidents that would follow.

 

G stared down at the scorch marks on the lab’s tiled floor and the molten mess which had once been the materials for a new circuit board.

 

Later, he’d chide himself for being so rash as to impede his own progress but at the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

\--

 

Frisk was wilting.

 

She could feel herself fading.

 

\--

  
  


At some point, Frisk tried to speak but no matter what she said, all she could hear was their screams, her cruel taunts as she mocked them, declaring their kindness as an inescapable weakness.

 

She’d decided stopped talking. Her words wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

 

\--

 

G sat on his tiled floor and stared at his hands. The anger, while exhilarating, had been fleeting and now all he felt was regret. 

 

If only he'd been more careful.

 

If only.

 

\--

 

She couldn't hear their screams anymore but somehow the silence was a million times worse.

 

\--

 

G stopped thinking and went back to work. After all, time waited for noone. 

 

No matter how much they needed it.

 

\--

Chara spoke to her, every now and then. 

  
  
  


_ I can help you, you know. _

 

Frisk lay on the patterned carpet and tried with all her might to feel. She blinked once, twice and, on the third time, let her eyes stay closed.

 

_ Remember how I helped you before? I can do that again. I can make this emptiness go away. _

 

Frisk remembered the cold, the numbness. Of being untouchable, unbreakable. 

 

She breathed and the sound rumbled and wheezed in the air.

 

_ What, nothing? Fine, suit yourself. _

 

Frisk could almost see them shrugging, leaning back on their undoubtedly plush chair as they regarded her indifferently. 

 

She moved so that she was looking up at the ceiling and shivered.

 

She needed to know.

\--

 

G didn't notice her at first. It was only when she coughed that he swivelled around in surprise. He stared at her in shock. A good day, then.

 

“Uh, hello,” he said after a few seconds had passed in silence. He hadn't exactly been expecting an answer so when she did, he was startled.

 

“Hello,” she rasped, her voice coarse with lack of use. G’s eyes went wide. A good day, indeed. She fidgeted in the doorway of the lab, the blanket that was thrown across her shoulders beginning to slip down to the floor. “I uh...I need to know something.”

 

She looked up to stare at him straight in the eye, deadset.

 

“What happened that day?”

 

“What?”

 

“You know,” she said. “The day that this became a reality.”

 

G froze.

 

“It’s a long story, kid.”

 

“I’ve got time.”

 

He chuckled, short and curt.

 

“Yeah,” he muttered slowly. “Guess you do.”

 

He shifted so that he was facing her and exhaled softly through his nose, patting the spot on the floor next to him for her to sit down.

 

“The thing with this situation-” he began. “Is that it didn’t all happen in one day. Although I can’t fault you for not knowing that- you were locked up for a lot of it. Yeah,” he added softly to her expression. “Locked up.”

 

For a moment, neither of them said a word.

 

“You sure you want to know this?” he asked quietly.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay,” G’s voice was steady. “It all started when, one day, I opened up my notebook and saw that somebody who was not me had written in it. Remember the one you saw in my room?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Yeah, well, I keep that thing pretty secure so it was a bit of a shock. But I saw what he wrote and...basically, it said that in a few days, you were going to be on the outskirts of Snowdin and you were going to kill somebody,” he paused to gauge her reaction. “Frisk?”

 

“Who was he? The guy that wrote in your notebook?”

 

“He’s uh…” G tsked, more to himself than anybody else. “He’s different. I’ll introduce you two later. Yeah, he’s still here,” he added and continued on before she could ask any more questions. “I didn’t fully believe it when I saw it. After all, it had been 10 years of nothing but peace. Just found it to be a bit of a stretch. But I dunno - thought it was worth investigating. Think of it as me just being paranoid. So I went there on the day and -” G took a deep breath. “And you were there. And there was a pile of dust and you had a knife and your eyes were red.”

 

Frisk was shaking a little. G made no move to touch her. It was probably the last thing she needed right about now. 

 

“Who was it?” she managed to croak out. “Who did I kill?”

 

“Does it matter?” he muttered bitterly. Frisk looked up at him with a mixture of incredulity and horror split across her features.

 

“How could it  _ not _ matter?” she demanded. G looked away.

 

“The monster had a green scarf,” he said eventually. “A beanie, too. Grey, green stripes.”

 

“Oh.”

 

The word was strangled and warped. Frisk held her hands over her mouth in horror, her eyes wide.

 

“I knew them,” she managed to say hoarsely. “They gave me cookies.”

 

She was starting to choke up. G gritted his teeth.

 

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

 

Frisk balled her hands into fists as she forced her breathing to calm down.

 

“I don’t regret asking,” she muttered once she was able to speak.

 

“Frisk, I can stop if you wa-”

 

“I want you to tell me what happened, G. Please.”

 

He sighed.

 

“I saw you. I saw you and the red eyes and I uh...I panicked. You hadn’t noticed me yet so I knocked you out cold and took you to Alphys and I told her everything. My logic was that since Chara had only just appeared, I thought you could be separated. I mean, if Chara could just appear then by that logic, she could disappear as well, right?” G put his head in his hands and gave an exasperated sigh. “I dunno. I was panicking. I didn’t know what went wrong and I-I just wanted you back, kid. I was scared that none of this would end up mattering and it would all just go down the drain.”

 

G blinked slowly at the floor then looked up at her.  

 

“Alphys took it like a champ, by the way. She’s smart; I’m pretty sure she knew something had been going on for a while. So we took you down to the Secret Lab because that’s where the DT Extraction Machine was and Alphys said that would be the best place to start on how to fix this mess. We put you in a cell, restrained you because we got scared, Frisk, that when Chara woke up, all hell would break loose. And it did. From then on, Chara called the shots. Red eyes all round. What a treat,” G grinned mirthlessly. “This went on for two days. Alphys was panicking. Nothing was working. And then, from what I know, seems like Flowey did something big. Yeah, he played a part in this too,” he added. “He connected the DT Extraction Machine to the Core so that it was a 2-way link. DT flowed into the Core. Core flowed into the machine. And the DT did its thing and performed miracles. The Core became sentient.”

 

G looked at his hands which were clasped together tight and slowly unfolded them.

 

“The Core provides for us. It lets us live. So when it gained sentience, I guess it realised it had the power to help us out. It recognised a threat. And when you’re being threatened, what do you do? You flee.”

 

Frisk’s ears pricked up.

 

“They’re not dead, kid. Never were. They’re just...somewhere else. In safekeeping.”

 

“But then, you and Asriel and I-”

 

“Yeah. I know. That’s because Flowey and my associate had power over the SAVES so they could technically defend themselves. But me on my own...I wasn’t powerful enough as I was to stay. So my associate helped me out, rooted me down. Made it so that I had to stay, whether I wanted to or not.”

 

G stared at the tiled floor in silence for a second. He was really regretting agreeing to this.

 

“But I didn’t know that, right? So I panicked. I thought that everyone had died and for some reason, I was the one that got to live. And then all of this anomalies started happening and I was really beginning to think it was the end of the world. But I remembered you down in the Secret Lab. I remembered you and Chara,” he paused to take a deep breath. “Kid, you’ve got to understand. I couldn’t take any chances.”

 

“What did you do?” she ventured softly.

 

“I left you there for three days. Alone.” G grimaced in the deafening silence that followed. “I knew what I was doing to you.”

 

“You...knew…?”

 

“I needed to make sure Chara would cooperate. I needed to make it so she had no other choice.”

 

“So you starved me.”

 

His breath caught in his throat.

 

“Yeah.”

 

She laughed, short and sad.

 

“For them,” she whispered. G watched her in quiet contemplation, his jaw tensed.

 

“For them.”

\--

 

When she finally made it inside, Frisk began crying.

 

But her tears had lost their worth. 

 

Now they were common, abundant in their filth and that made her feel all the more terrible for there was a wrongness in a world where she lived and they paid for it.

 

\--

 

She had begun talking again.

 

A small victory, maybe, but a victory nonetheless.

 

\--

 

Frisk woke up with tears in her eyes. Instinctively, she brushed them away and sat up on the couch, wrapping her quilt tight around her shivering form.

 

She had dreamed of their voices and it was only then that she had realised something. When she’d been falling, they hadn't been trying to hurt her.

 

They'd been trying to save her.

 

\--

 

Frisk hated sleeping.

 

The temporary comfort it had once provided her with was now replaced by the silent horror of her nightmares.That endless abyss of nothing, the sense of falling without ever being able to hit the bottom, the feeling of drowning in dust - she loathed it all. 

 

So when she inevitably woke up in the middle of the night, sheets bunched around her sweaty form and a scream lodged at the back of her throat, she made no effort to go back to sleep.

 

Instead, she drew a blanket around herself and made her way down to G’s lab.

 

\--

 

G had grown used to her night time visits. They’d worked out a system between each other - he and Frisk.

 

When she eventually tiptoed into his lab and made her way towards him, he’d chance a question. Just her name, that’s all. Anything more would’ve been unnecessary. And if she answered, then they would talk. Nothing important, just little things to keep her mind off more...troubling matters. And if she didn’t? That meant it had been bad. She had woken up just a little too late, seen a little too much. And he would let her take his hand and he wouldn’t say a word. She didn’t need words. Just the knowledge that he, at least, was still there. 

 

He understood that feeling far too well.

 

\--

 

“How did you know?”

 

“What?”

 

It was during one of the better nights that Frisk asked him that. She was sat beside him on the tiled floor, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl. G looked up from the circuit board he’d been wiring and settled back on his haunches, grunting as he eased a crick out of his neck.

 

“How did you know about me and Chara?” she said. “About us being...different.”

 

G snorted.

 

“Don’t make me laugh kid. You two are as different as the sun and the moon.”

 

“The sun and the moon...” she muttered to herself. “Well then, what would that make you?”

 

He hummed thoughtfully for a moment then shrugged.

 

“Not a clue.”

 

\--

 

She wanted to see the stars.

 

She could still remember them; those bright beacons shining defiantly in the darkness.

 

But the whispers still lingered and no matter what she did, that chill that she had once coveted would not be dispelled.

 

Frisk exhaled, half expecting her breath to steam in the air.

 

She still didn’t trust herself.

 

And so, she lifted her palms and pressed them into her eyelids, locking onto the radiant implosions of colour that danced in and out of the darkness.

 

She wanted to see the real stars but for now the fake ones would do.

 

\--

 

“Do they hurt?” 

 

Frisk gestured towards the holes in his hands and the cracks in his skull, genuine interested. G looked up from his blueprint to regard his hands, thoughtful. 

 

“Nah,” he muttered eventually. “Don’t think so.”

 

“Hm.”

 

\--

 

As days passed and supplies dwindled, G found he couldn’t ignore the problem for any longer.

 

They were running out of time. 

 

He’d soon have to raid the garbage dump for more materials and if he didn’t begin collecting more echo flowers, they’d never be able to catch up. He should’ve been chomping at the bit but there was something holding him back and that was something was sitting nearby with a flimsy blanket wrapped around her. 

 

Even if Frisk had seemed to settle in a somewhat...calm state, he was still wary about leaving her on her own. She still had bad days and the nightmares...well, from what he knew, they’d never stopped. But precious time was being lost and he needed to make up for it.

 

He brought it up on a good day. 

 

“Hey, kid?”

 

“Yeah?” she answered, not looking up from fitting a secure metal lid to one of the globe containers.

 

“I’m gonna go out tomorrow.”

 

She stilled.

 

“Why?” she asked quietly. G grimaced.

 

“I need to get more echo flowers. We’re falling behind and...well, we need to start making up for it, kid. This machine isn’t going to fuel itself.”

 

“Echoflowers…” she muttered quietly. “My memories…”

 

“For the machine,” he added quickly. She nodded and leaned back, resting her head on the workbench as her eyelids slid closed.

 

“For the machine,” she whispered. “For them.”

 

“Kid, you’re not going to be coming,” he blurted out, just in case his words had been misconstrued. 

 

“I know. You don’t trust me to go out there again.”

 

“What? No, I-”

 

“It’s okay, G. I don’t trust myself to go out there again too.”

 

Her eyes fluttered open once more and she gave him a tiny smile.

 

“Have fun, G,” she said. “And...please, don’t take too long out there. I, um…” she drew her  knees close to her chest and fiddled with her chains. “I don’t like being alone.”

 

He nodded stiffly.

 

“Yeah.”

 

\--

 

She wanted to go with him. She wanted to see the world again.

 

But she hadn’t been lying when she said she didn’t trust herself and she remained in his lab, huddled under her fraying blanket, patiently waiting for his inevitable return.

 

In the quiet, her eyes strayed to a particularly reflective sheet of metal and she stared at the distorted version of her that peered back through a blurry sheen.

 

She could barely recognise herself anymore.

 

A thought sparked in her head and gained volume until it was blazing through, driving away the constant chill just for one measly, hopeful second.

 

She didn’t trust Frisk anymore but maybe she would for someone new.

 

\--

 

G’s expeditions were short. Just for a few minutes at a time. Just to get some more time-bubbles. Just so they wouldn’t fall too far behind. And for the first few tries, things were more or less uneventful. Frisk was still there when he teleported back home. She was still okay.  

 

And so, he continued on with his daily chore of going out, just for a few minutes, and gathering time bubbles. But then  there came the day when he popped back into his living room, his face twisted into an exasperated scowl at the fact that he couldn’t seem to find any big clusters of echo flowers anymore, and he froze. Because there she was, sitting on the couch in her usual position, only this time she had a pair of frighteningly sharp scissors held far too close to her face.

 

In an instant, the scissors were in his hand, possessed by an ethereal golden glow, and Frisk was being held down by a gigantic, slightly translucent, yellow hand that had a hole punched cleanly through the middle. She looked up, nothing more than blank curiosity registering on her face and stared straight at G.

 

“I just wanted to cut my hair,” she mumbled.

 

“Why?”

 

At that, she looked away.

 

“I’m different now,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I really am.”

 

G’s cold expression softened into something a lot more approachable. With a swift gesture, the giant hand pinning her down disappeared. As he made his way towards her, he gestured for her to move over and he settled in beside her.

 

“If you want, I can do it,” he offered.

 

Without looking at him, Frisk nodded in agreement.

\--

 

Frisk was used to her hair being cut by Toriel who always manage to style it in a way that made her smile. G was not as gifted with a pair of scissors and, as such, she supposed this was the only sensible way it could’ve gone.

 

Frisk stared into the mirror G had handed to her. Her mousy-brown hair which had been long enough to put in a ponytail before was cut short and close to her scalp. There was no rhyme or reason to the haircut and, as she ran a hand through it, the jagged tufts of hair tickled at her palm. Without her long hair obscuring her vision, Frisk could see how terrible she looked. She looked positively skeletal; her face just seemed like a collection of sharp lines and dark shadows. The bags under her red-rimmed eyes were more prominent than ever, her lips dry and chapped. With a shock, she noticed that her reflection’s eyes were a bright, brilliant red. Chara’s voice was thick in her mind like dark treacle.

 

_ Getting a stupid haircut won’t change a thing, you know. _ they said in a tone that was almost bored.  _ We’ll still look the same, no matter what you do. _

 

Frisk’s exhaled in soft exasperation.

 

_ That’s  _ not _ why I did this _ , she mumbled.

 

When she looked back to her mirror, her eyes were back to their signature chocolate.

 

A cautious cough made her look upwards. G awkwardly stood nearby, fiddling anxiously with the zipper on his jacket. Frisk gave a tiny smile that left as soon as it came but going by the surprise on his face, he’d seen it.

 

“I like it,” she murmured quietly as she got up from the couch to hand the mirror back to him.

 

“You smiled,” he said, stunned. She let her hand holding the mirror fall to her side.

 

“Yeah.”

\--

  
  


She was getting better.

 

It was taking time, but she was getting better.

  
  


\--

 

The first steps made towards recovery were bittersweet. 

 

The first time she laughed since the incident, the giggle had stuck in her throat and left her scrambling for air even as tears poured freely from her eyes. 

 

Her smiles were fleeting and more often than not followed by periods of solemn silence. 

 

But she was laughing again and smiling again. And that had to account for something, didn’t it?

 

\--

 

Baby steps. That's what they called it.

 

Frisk thought it was rather apt because it really did feel like learning to walk all over again.

 

And with G by her side, she took her first steps as someone different.

 

\--

 

She began to sleep in his lab.

 

When things got tough, she’d come down there and hold onto his hand and watch in silence as he fiddled with whatever mechanical gadget he was working on. And in time, her breathing would slow and she’d slump onto his shoulder and that was when he would stop, make sure she was comfortable then quietly resume his work.

 

He started keeping a pillow there, just for her.

 

\--

 

“Next time, can I go with you?”

 

G blinked at her in surprise.

 

“Uh…”

 

“When-when you go out to get the echo flowers...could I come with you next time?”

 

Frisk fidgeted in her spot on the couch, picking at the stray threads of her blanket.

 

“Can I ask why you’d want to?”

 

She bit her lip.

 

“You said that you’ve been having trouble finding more echo flowers and I just thought - I dunno - two heads would be better than one, right? And…”

 

She sighed and her eyes clouded over with a faraway look.

 

“And I’d really love to see the stars again,” she murmured wistfully. Abruptly, her dreamy look disappeared, replaced by an almost embarrassed expression. “Sorry. I know it’s probably stupid to think about that but-”

 

“No, no, it’s not stupid,” he blurted out. “It’s just that-”

 

He paused, taking the moment to allow a genuine smile to spread across his features.

 

“Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah, we’ll go out tomorrow. And we’ll see the stars.”

 

\--

  
  


They were exactly like she remembered. Bright, beautiful pinpoints of light in the sky.

 

Powerful.

 

Hopeful.

 

Frisk breathed in the scent of stardust as a memory popped into her mind.

 

_ You two are as different as the sun and the moon. _

 

_ Well then, what would that make you? _

 

Frisk had her answer.

 

Because if she was the sun and Chara was the moon, he’d be the stars.

  
  


\--

  
  


G watched her stare up at the sky, his hands stuffed into his pockets, and mused over the sheer tranquility that had come over her form. Who knew stars would’ve been the answer?

 

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured. 

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Yeah,” he huffed out a chuckle that misted in the air. “Me too.”

  
  


\--

 

They soon returned home. 

 

No matter how long and how desperately they searched, Frisk and G simply couldn’t find any more substantial groups of echo flowers. Frisk held their day’s results in her hand: a few measly bunches of the blue flowers that barely constituted a bouquet.

 

To say that their mood had been soured was an understatement. The sinking realisation that they were now faced with a lack of fuel for their time machine hung over them like a thick fog. However, it was not enough to stop Frisk from noticing the door to the house being ajar and she rushed to swing it open, hope sprouting in her mind. 

 

Her pathetic bouquet fell to the ground with a soft rustle of leaves as she took in the sight before her.

 

The entire room was filled to the brim with time bubbles. They glowed, pulsed in unison and Frisk thought to herself -  _ stars _ . She gaped, her eyes darting around the room as she struggled to understand what she was seeing. The little spheres spilled over each other, their light overlapping until it was as if she’d walked straight into an ocean of a blinding white and then the hope that had sprouted in her mind was blooming and she could’ve cheered but she sombered up quickly. Directly in front of her, blanketed in their steady comforting radiance was Asriel, perched on a nearby table. It took her a moment to recognise his expression. Not fear, as her first instinct told her, but something akin to trepidation. Caution. Like he was circling around a ticking time bomb.

 

Frisk felt herself shrink, just a little.

 

A soft gasp sounded behind her and she knew that G had seen the same thing but at that moment her eyes were fixed on the golden flower that seemed faded in the glaring light of the time bubbles. Asriel held her gaze for a second before looking away and down to the floor.

 

She had gone through a lot due to him. It wouldn't take a genius to realise who had let her out there that night.

 

Frisk took a step forward and he flinched. She swallowed around the painful lump in her throat.

 

“Asriel,” she managed to whisper and at that, he chanced a look up. Almost instantly, his eyes widened in shock at the sight of Frisk trying her best to smile even as her eyes glittered with tears. And then she was stumbling forward to embrace him, a genuine grin softening her features until she was familiar, until she was Frisk. She held him gently.

 

“Welcome back, Asriel,” she whispered. He leant forward, resting a leaf on her dampening cheek in comfort.

 

“I missed you.”

 

\--

 

G regarded the room in wonder. There must’ve been thousands of time bubbles there and being in such close proximity to each other had caused a tangible buzz to form in the air. He could almost taste the magic. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and let his gaze wander.

 

_ Guess that answers the question of where they were all going _ , he mused.  _ Ol’ Flower Power was up to his antics again. _

 

G let his gaze drop to the floor. He didn’t think he’d be able to look at all of them without going blind - such was the intensity of their light.

 

There were so many. So many that they could be enough.

 

He went still at the realisation.

 

There were enough. They could actually do this.

 

_ They still had a chance. _

 

G glanced back at Frisk. She’d swept up Flowey into a deep, crushing hug and he didn’t need to see her face to know that she was crying. The flower looked up and, between themselves, they shared a silent correspondence. He held Flowey’s gaze for a second then turned away to inspect one of the little bubbles that had rolled over and stopped at his feet. He hadn’t conceded. He was a stubborn skeleton - anybody could vouch for that - and he still stood by what he believed. 

 

But what’s done was done. 

 

She’d remembered. And somehow, she’d managed to get through it and get even stronger. It was almost enviable, what she could do. But she was back and she wasn’t quite Frisk anymore but she was still her; he could say that for certain. And now here was Flowey (or Asriel as he begrudgingly added), back with enough time to save them.

 

_ A peace offering _ , he thought absently. 

 

He’d take it, G decided. He’d be an idiot to decline. 

 

And as he held the tiny, illuminating sphere between his thumb and his forefinger, G allowed a stupid, giddy smile to spread over his features.

 

They still had a chance. There was still a possibility of success.

 

And where there was possibility, there was hope.

  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T KILL ME. Okay I know that the break I took from this fic was INSANE but I've just got to say that something came up and, at that time, updating the fic wasn't really my top priority. BUT ANYWAY. Thank you for sticking with this fic for me! I love you all and I promise, no more 6 month long waiting times for the next chapter.
> 
> Tumblr: lindigo

Things went back to normal. Or, at least as normal as things could get in those circumstances.

 

With Asriel’s peace offering, they’d collectively gathered enough time to go back and save the others with a whole week to spare. With an immediate threat resolved, their atmosphere had tangibly mellowed. G had thrown himself back into work on the machine and while he was undoubtedly relieved, it would’ve taken an idiot to not notice that underlying tension buzzing between him and Asriel. Frisk could understand it all too well - the feeling of never being sure of your standing with someone - but she refrained from pointing it out to them.    
  


They probably wouldn’t appreciate the irony.

 

Frisk had anticipated conflicts between them but, to her chagrin, they’d begun to noticeably settle whenever in her presence. They’d quiet into an odd, tentative silence, something that she positively despised. It was like she was a baby that they were shielding from the world and she was sick of it.

 

“I’m not made of glass,” she’d remarked one day, her tone terse. “If you guys are going to fight then do it. But don’t just stop because I’m here. I’m not some fragile infant you need to protect from such dangerous things like pointed insults. God, you act as if I’m going to cut myself on words!”

 

For a few seconds, they’d merely stared at her in stunned silence, frozen. Then G started laughing. Asriel, startled and noticeably irked, swivelled around to glare at him, incredulous.

 

“What’s so funny?” Frisk said as she struggled to hide a small smile. Damn his infectious laughter. 

 

“Yeah. What’s your problem?” Asriel muttered, looking at the laughing monster as if he’d gone insane.

 

“Nothing,” G managed to say, his eyes glittering like stars as he grinned. “Just...good to have you back, kid.”

 

Frisk flushed, eyes shooting to the floor as a wave of self-consciousness overcame her. Almost instinctively, her fingers tangled themselves in the short cropped hair at her nape and she gave a tiny laugh.

 

“Yeah.”

 

It was less weird after that. Asriel and G would bicker and argue incessantly but they never grew into anything more than spats. Frisk was always there, sandwiched between them, and as day after day passed, she felt more and more as if things were returning to back when Asriel first returned. A tentative friendship, something quiet and begrudging but a friendship nonetheless. Normal, she reminded herself. Normal as it could be.

 

However, some things would always be different.

 

The guilt would never leave her. She’d realised that the moment she remembered. It was deeply rooted down within her psyche and while she knew that, with time, the pain would dull, Frisk also knew with an unnerving certainty that it would never leave her. 

 

It was because of this underlying guilt that she would have such varying emotions. There would be good times when she would joke around with G and Asriel, when she’d help welding parts together, when she could muster up the energy to laugh. And then there would be bad times when all she wanted to do was disappear. 

 

G still let her sleep in his lab. He still let her hold his hand. He was still there, he reassured time and time again, gently sweeping short strands of her hair away from her eyes. 

 

Those times were quiet.

 

Asriel helped as well. He’d be there to talk to when the going got tough. His mere presence was a reminder that he was intent on hammering home: that Frisk had done so much good, even with all the bad. In downtime, they would watch old reruns of Mettaton and he would make her smile with his deadpan remarks about the flamboyant robot and she would thank him for creating some semblance of the life they had before all this mess. 

  
Asriel told her that he loved her. That all of them did. She cried at that. It somehow meant so much more coming from him.

  
  


And then there were things that only G could do.

 

Judgement Hall. She’d never truly grasped the meaning of its name before she was given back her memories. Now, it was painfully clear.

 

Nightmares of a burning blue flame, of bones snapping whether they were hers or his, beams of light shredding her to pieces...they plagued her. And while there was fear - cloying, suffocating fear - Frisk knew enough about pain to know that she had to see for herself. 

 

So he took her there. 

 

They walked, side by side, hands close but never truly touching. G was solemn, quiet, and it was taking Frisk all that she had within her to not turn around then and there and go back home.

 

Being outside was still so surreal. It had none of the force behind when she first opened the front door, but she could still feel as if she could almost see where they would be standing, what they would be doing. And if she merely closed her eyes and breathed, it was like they were all still there.

 

“Frisk?” 

 

G’s voice brought her back to reality. She hadn’t realised she’d stopped. 

 

“Sorry,” she whispered, an embarrassed grimace plastered on her face. “Guess I’m not really here.”

 

“Frisk, if you wanna go back then-”

 

“No!” Frisk winced. That came out a lot more harsh than she had intended. “I mean...no thanks. I know I can do this.”

 

G gazed at her, contemplative, then gently took her hand in his, tugging her along as he began to walk once again. 

 

_ Warm _ , Frisk thought and she let a small smile spread over her features.

 

As they plodded along, the rhythm of their steps steady and constant, Frisk once again let her mind drift. She remembered the feeling of him holding her close to his chest, how snugly her cheek fit into the curve of his neck, how she’d wrapped her hands around herself and let herself cry, slow and unfeeling. How he’d taken her to see the stars, how he’d held her hand so tight as they sat on that grassy bank until she’d fallen asleep. How the stars had burned themselves into the back of her eyelids. How she could still see them whenever she look at G. A beacon of light, defiant in the dark expanse of the universe. 

 

Her smile widened. How cheesy.

 

“Frisk. I’ve got to tell you something.” 

 

And just like that, the mood shifted. They’d stopped again but now it was G holding her back and she realised they were standing in front of the doors to Judgement Hall.

 

“What?”

 

“Frisk, last time you were here...when we were collecting echoflowers - “ he paused, looking away as his spare hand reached up to touch the crack in his skull. “I lied about Judgement Hall. There were flowers there, once. But I burned them all. They’re not there anymore.”

 

He waited, gritting his teeth in the tense silence that followed.

 

“I know.”

 

His eyes widened.

 

“Asriel told me.”

 

“When?”

 

“Just before we left.”

 

She gave him a small, sad smile. 

 

“It’s okay. What’s done is done.” Her hand slipped out of his as she turned to face the giant double doors that led to the hall. For a second, she said nothing. Then she whispered, “It was because you cared.”

 

And with a sharp breath, she shoved open the doors and strode inside.

 

\--

 

Frisk stepped forward and into the hall, her shoes scuffing on the golden tiles. The sturdy columns that towered above her had sprouted weak buttercups and they showered her with soft petals. Light streamed in brokenly through the gigantic, arched windows and she forced herself to stare at their insignias as she passed. They would not hurt her. The’d proved that, time and time again.

 

Frisk slowed to a halt in the middle of corridor. Before her, she could see the traces of G’s inferno. Scorch marks, ash piling in the corners, smudges of soot streaked over pillars and tiles.

 

Frisk closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could almost see it now, G overcome by golden furious flames, letting them run wild like a ring of destruction, sweeping through the hall like a rampaging beast. Deep within her, fear coiled at the bottom of her stomach like a venomous snake and she stomped it out, gritting her teeth as she sank to the floor. She could do this. She was strong enough.

 

The moment her fingers found purchase on the cool golden marble of the tiles, she gasped sharply. The floor still buzzed with magic, so much so that touching it was like an electric shock. Upon further inspection, Frisk realised that within the hum, if she focused, she could see shapes moving. A human, herself, and a short skeleton who burned with the power of a blue sun. She could hear their panting breaths, the heat of a blaster beam barely missing her, the feeling of splintering bone, the weight of a glinting knife. And she could sense the pain, that excruciating fire when she was pierced like a pincushion and fell, lifeless and cold, to the floor.

 

Frisk forced her head up and gulped down air like a fish starving for water. Wincing, she cracked open her eyes, took one look at the swimming ceiling and closed them again. Her chest felt far too tight and she couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t focus - things were spinning out of control again! The thought ignited panic in her mind and it spread like wildfire, setting every thought aflame until all she could think about burning, blinding  _ fear _ . Frisk’s body went rigid and then she couldn’t move, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away but the fear was threatening to swallow her up and it wasn’t pain but it was something more angry, more alive and -

 

And then her eyes were open and she was staring straight at G.

 

For a singular, terrifying moment, nothing changed. But then the stiffness was sliding out of her body, the images were leaving her mind and relief drowned out the wildfire. Frisk let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding and let herself sag against her friend, G automatically making space for her as he sat down beside her. His hand that had pulled her to face him dropped from its place on her cheek.They sat in silence as she took her time to catch her breath, relaxing in the comfort of knowing where, who and what she was. In time, when Frisk glanced up once more, she found her gaze being met by a searching look. She gave a subdued smile but shook her head and instead pulled away from the skeleton, absently running a hand through her cropped, straggly hair.

 

With a deep breathless sigh, Frisk let her eyes focus on the outcrop of greenery growing on a toppled column, how the buttercups seemed to whisper and breathe in the imaginary breeze, how the sun-dappled light shining through the  windows bathed it in a comforting, golden glow. After a few more minutes of silence, she swivelled round and let her forehead rest on G’s bony shoulder.

 

“I think I’d like to leave now,” she whispered and not a second later, they were gone.

 

\--

 

Time went on. And while the resolution of her curiosity in Judgement Hall left a fulfilled feeling within her, Frisk couldn’t help but feel on edge with the lack of a certain, red-eyed individual speaking in the dark recesses of her mind.

 

Even before Asriel’s official return, Chara’s commentary had begun to quiet but now that he was back, her comments were now rare and far between. Frisk had learned enough from her retained memories to form a solitary opinion on why. However, other factors caused much frustration.

 

G had explained more or less what had caused the mass disappearance of the Underground; it was a sentient decision made by the Core as a self preservation tactic to protect all those who could not protect themselves. The shifts of corporeal universes and the clashes concerning them had merely been the universe assuring them means of getting out of this mess. And still, with all of that, too many questions remained unanswered.

 

Why had Chara come back? What had gone wrong? Hadn’t it been a good run?

 

Frisk was determined to get answers and she was sure that she knew just who to start with. However, there was a complication in that plan.

 

Gaster - that’s what G called him - hadn’t yet appeared. Although G seemed entirely fine with the prospect of never seeing Gaster again, Frisk wasn’t. She wanted answers and she couldn’t get all of them from G and Asriel. The memory of the glitch lunging towards her, hand outstretched and eyes burning black had been scorched into the back of her eyelids, something that neither she nor Chara appreciated. It seemed that the former scientist had made a fair share of bad impressions during his time in and out of corporeal reality. However, Frisk wasn’t an idiot. From what she’d gathered from G’s clipped comments at her enquiry, Gaster was the orchestrator of this whole situation.

 

“Gaster’s the one who wrote in your notebook?” she’d asked. “How?”

 

“He’s always had the ability,”G muttered bitterly as he clutched a screwdriver just the slightest bit too tight. “Just never thought to use it before then I suppose.”

 

“And he’s also the one who rooted you down in this reality?”

 

“If you can even call it that. He’s real full of surprises.”

 

G didn’t like talking about Gaster. Unresolved matters, scars that never truly healed. Asriel helped fill in the blanks with his own memory. 

 

According to Asriel, Gaster had almost been a surrogate father to Sans and Papyrus. He had ‘created’ them at some point or another; allegedly they just showed up one day. However, he wasn’t exactly the best parent one could have. In terms of personality, he’d always been dismissive, cold and apathetic. 

 

“Not the best environment for a kid to grow up in,” Asriel had remarked ruefully. “Those two skeletons had to essentially make do on their own.”

 

“He was a good scientist. An amazing one,” G had said in addition. “Just a lousy guy.”

 

The only exception to his frosty personality had been King Asgore. When he was around the king, Gaster noticeably relaxed and restrained his sharp tongue. He spoke, showed emotion, tolerated the king’s jovial antics and even tended to smile, something that was akin to a rarity.

 

“ _ A suck up _ ,” was all that Chara said, sneering at the memory. “Might as well have declared his undying love for him while he still could.”

 

And Asgore himself had definitely regarded Gaster as a friend. He would often invite Gaster to occasions on palace grounds, taking the opportunity to give him gifts and comfort which he always accepted, a slight red tinge on his cheeks as he did. They would speak together in comfort as old friends, often reminisce on ‘good old days’ as Asriel put it. And even though Gaster allegedly loathed small talk and unnecessary social interaction, he would never decline an invitation from the king.

 

They were close. 

 

And when Chara and Asriel died, Gaster was there while the royal family mourned.

 

After their death, King Asgore changed. Frisk knew about it herself. He’d declared war on humanity and thought that the only way to break the barrier separating humans and animals would be to capture seven human souls. 

 

But he couldn’t do it.

 

After he captured his first human soul, Asgore broke down in a fit of sorrow and regret.

 

So when the other humans arrived, Gaster was there to take the burden.

 

On behalf of his beloved king, Gaster swore to take on the weight of murder. Somehow, Gaster became even more detached from the world, focused on his purpose of culling the humans so that his king wouldn’t have to. The royal scientist became solely work-driven and vicious, his neglect for Sans and Papyrus now bordering on abuse. 

 

The breaking point came when he involved them. 

 

Ever-conscious of his own age, Gaster had thought it would be appropriate to invest in successors. Papyrus was immediately excluded due to his naturally compassionate nature and so, Sans was chosen. From then on, Gaster trained Sans to fight but at the time of action, Sans balked and refused to kill a human child. Frustrated and consumed with anger, Gaster killed the child himself, brutally tearing them into pieces as he forced Sans to watch. 

 

The next day, Sans left the lab and took Papyrus with him.

 

“Years later the Core malfunctioned and changed him into what he is now,” Asriel finished. “Gaster’s always been lurking around. After a while, I guess some of us just forgot him. He hasn’t exactly been very present in any of our lives up until recently.” 

 

“But that’s the point isn’t it?” Frisk asked, her mind whirring with thoughts. “He’s important now. And since he’s always been around, won’t he have answers?”

 

“Yeah,” G whispered, his expression unreadable. “But the real question is if he’ll give them to you.”

 

Frisk’s teeth worried at her lip, her eyes trained on her fraying, black tights, and said nothing.

 

Despite all of her misgivings and her friend’s repeated warnings, she couldn’t help but know that Gaster would come again.

 

After all, at the very heart of it, he was a scientist and this might as well be his best experiment of all time. From what she knew about him, it would be out of character to leave a specimen unsurveyed.

 

\--

 

Because of all of this and more, Frisk wasn’t surprised when she woke up one day to find Gaster watching her. 

 

Judging by the sky, it was either extremely late or extremely early. They were in the living room. Frisk threw off her blanket and sat up to face, quickly glancing around the room to make sure they were alone. The others wouldn’t approve.

 

“ **We ArE ALoNE.** ”

 

Unbidden, Frisk shivered. His words were like inky black snakes that slithered and coiled through her head, leaving chilly paths in their wake. They were somehow tangible, grating like nails on a blackboard. Frisk swallowed and glanced up at him.

God, he was unnerving.

 

“I was just checking,” she muttered.

 

“ **ThErE iS No NeeD. I Am ScrUPuLouS** .”

 

“Yeah. I’ve been told,” she smiled thinly. “You know, Chara says you’re a creep.”

 

Gaster regarded her icily.

 

“I’d say her information is accurate.”

 

“ **YoU’ve GrowN ComForTABle witH thE FirsT hUMAN. InTeReSTIng.** ”

 

Frisk found herself lost for words under the scrutiny of his gaze and made do with glaring at him. He made her feel like a lab specimen. She would’ve told him so too if she hadn’t thought he’d regard it as a compliment. Frisk mentally shook herself. Stay on topic.

 

“Gaster, I know why I want you here. I want you to answer my questions. But why did you want yourself here? What caused this visit of yours?”

 

“ **ThE DeSirE TO InFoRm YoU ThAt yoUR bAttle DoEs noT EnD WitH ThE MAchinE.** ”

 

“What?” 

 

“ **NOw ThaT thE FiRst humAn HAs eSTAblisHEd ThEIr inFLuenCE, ThEy wiLL reMAin aS aN AffliCtion FoRevErmore.** ” At this, Gaster lowered himself until he was stooping, eye to eye with Frisk who found herself frighteningly unable to move. “ **wHAt woULd StOp whAtEver BroUghT thEm BaCk To OnCe MoRe AlloW the fiRSt HumAN tO takE PoweR?** ”

 

“I-”

 

“ **Do yOu TruLy belieVe In YoUr owN AbiliTy tO PrevEnT SucH PoTEnTiaL mattERs?** ” Gaster shot forward until they were mere inches apart and Frisk could  _ feel _ the distortion of reality around him. It was as if he was a black hole. Terrifying. “ **faiTH AssURES noTHiNG.** ”

 

For a moment, Frisk merely stared at him,  a thoughtful expression replacing her previously taut, apprehensive countenance. Then -

 

“You have rather definitive views on these matters, Gaster,” she said, watching as the glitch smoothly withdrew to a much more comfortable distance. “Odd for a scientist to be so narrow-minded about results.”

 

Gaster stood tall, watching her in silence.

 

“How many times has this happened?” she asked, her voice low and quiet as she stared intently at the manacles still clasped around her wrists.

 

“ **ToO maNy.** ”

 

When Frisk looked up again, Gaster was gone. Immediately, she let out a sigh of relief. She had underestimated how truly intimidating the former royal scientist could be. At least now she could understand the others’ stance on his attitude, she thought to herself with a small smile. With a start, she realised she hadn’t managed to ask any of her own questions and groaned. In all honesty, she hadn’t expected she would’ve gotten the chance to anyway but it was still frustrating to have been so easily distracted. 

 

_ At least it’s a useful distraction _ , she thought to herself as she slumped back onto the couch. 

 

Gaster’s voice echoed in the depths of her mind, bouncing off fluid thoughts and theories until the gears of Frisk’s mind began to turn.

 

**_yoUR bAttle DoEs noT EnD WitH ThE MAchinE._ **

 

It was hours later when Frisk finally fell back asleep, her mind exhausted but with a newly formed plan.

 

\--

 

“I’m going to talk to Chara.”

 

It was the next day and they were in the lab. G and Asriel had been working on their separate parts, with Asriel filling the spherical capsules with time spheres and G manning the control panel while Frisk herself was putting together wiring plates for the engine. It had been miraculously quiet with only the sounds of them working and exchanging tools filling the air; apparently, G and Asriel weren’t in a combative mood today. However, at her words, both of her companions froze in their tracks and a deadly silence fell.

 

“What?” Asriel whispered, looking up at her carefully. To his left, G snickered half-heartedly, as if it was a joke. 

 

“About what? The weather?” the skeleton said and Frisk frowned. With his back to her, she couldn’t see his face.

 

“No.” Frisk picked her words carefully. “About herself. About how to make her stop.”

 

Silence.

 

“Oh my god, you’re serious,” Asriel was incredulous. Immediately, G whipped around, letting his tools clatter on the floor, and strode up to Frisk. His expression was stony.

 

“No. You can not do this. You are not pulling your redemption card on Chara! There are limits, Frisk! Not to mention the risk!” he hissed.

 

“I know, I know, I just - I have to-”

 

“You have to? Why? Is there a striking need to potentially endanger this whole thing?” G began to pace around the room, tone rising.

 

“G, listen to me. I’m just trying to assure some sort of peace -”

 

“Frisk, it’s already assured,” Asriel stated firmly. “We’ve got the machine. I got you the time!”

 

“There’s more to it,” Frisk implored. “I know if you just let me - “

 

“Where the hell did this come from?” G halted at the center of the room, and threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “Just yesterday you were as content as the rest of us to keep to our current situation.”

 

Frisk bit her lip and took a deep breath.

 

“Gaster came to talk to me last night.”

 

G stiffened.

 

“No. Stop right right there. Gaster is not -”

 

“He told me something important.”

 

“Whatever he told you is  _ bullshi- _ !”

 

“Chara’s gonna come back!” Frisk shouted. As silence once more fell upon the room, Frisk’s hands bunched in the material of her shorts.

 

This was difficult.

 

Asriel was the first to break the silence.

 

“What?”

 

“Gaster asked we what would stop Chara from coming back since she’s already done it before. I didn’t have an answer to that,” Frisk said then turned to give a pointed look towards G who still stood, arms crossed. “I didn’t think you’d have one either.”

 

“What brought her back…” Asriel whispered, his brows drawn together.

 

“This was a good run. She wasn’t supposed to come back so why did she? What’s to stop that same thing from happening again?” Frisk paused and sighed deeply.“Trust me, guys. I know firsthand how terrifying Chara is and in much more depth and detail than I would ever, ever want. So hear me when I say that I wouldn’t be doing this if I had a choice.”

 

For a long moment, Asriel looked thoughtful then sighed.

 

“There’d have to be precautions, right?”

 

Frisk couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

 

“Yes! Yes. Obviously, yes. You and G would be there. The moment you see a flicker of red in my eyes, do your thing. Don’t let me move, don’t let me  _ speak _ until you see the red leave.”

 

“And what if Chara doesn’t give you back?” 

 

Frisk looked away at the sound of G’s voice. 

 

“Chara’s weak now. She’s tried taking control before and I held on.” Frisk dug her nails into her palms as she remembered that night where she’d nearly done the impossible. It seemed like years ago. “I won’t let her take over.”

 

“So you’re sure that Chara knows what brought her back?” Asriel asked and Frisk let her gaze drop to the floor.

 

“Well,  if anybody knew it would be her, right?” she mumbled hesitantly.

 

“And you’re basing all of this off of the word of Gaster?” G said exasperatedly.

 

Frisk resisted the urge to bury her head in her hands. Dear God, he was pacing again. Just as she was about to answer, Asriel cut in.

 

“God, listen to yourself, G! We realise you have history with that damned scientist but we are not going to let your emotions keep you back,” Asriel said fervently, panting from his outburst. His expression softened slightly. “He’s never been wrong before. Just grow up.”

 

Expression pulled taut, G took one more look at Frisk then stormed out of the room.

 

\--

When Frisk finally stepped outside to find him, G was on the front porch of the main house, smoking a cigarette.

 

“Didn’t know you still had those,” she said softly as she leaned against a beam.

 

“Been saving them.”

 

G patted the spot next him in invitation and Frisk found herself sidled up next to him soon after. For a little while, they both said nothing, opting to watch as G’s smoke floated up and away into the breeze.

 

“I know I’m being stupid,”he said suddenly. “It’s a credible threat. But Chara’s so dangerous and you-”

 

“I don’t think it’s about Chara anymore,” Frisk whispered. “I think the reason you’re so unwilling to accept this is because it’s coming from Gaster.”

 

G was silent, stony-faced.

 

“Why do you hate him so much?”

 

Frisk was overstepping. She knew that. These were minefields she was traversing.

 

G gave a mirthless chuckle.

 

“I know Asriel’s already told you.”

 

“I want your side of this, not his.”

 

G took a long, indulgent drag of his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching as it coiled and faded in the open air.

 

“It’s complicated.”

 

“I know. It always is with you.”

 

“Heh.”

 

Frisk edged closer until their shoulders were touching.

 

“Go on. I’m a good listener.”

 

With a deep, tired sigh, G dropped his cigarette and ground it under the heel of his boot. He stared ahead into the flurries of snow that were beginning to fall, expressionless, then began.

 

“At the start, Gaster was better. He was serious n’ focused on his work constantly. But you know, he was something to us, me and Paps. Dammit, we used to want to make him smile,” G scowled at the ground in distaste. “Paps gave him a drawing once n’ it was  _ his _ birthday - Pap’s birthday - but Gaster got the gift and the drawing was crummy n’ stupid - it was us as a family - and...and Gaster smiled. And it was tiny and stupid and-and it was useless, it didn’t matter at all but we were small and…”

 

G trailed off, his narrowed eyes focused on something far beyond the horizon. 

 

“He taught me everything I know about science. He tried to teach Paps too but Paps was always better at the puzzles than the theory work. But he taught me. And he was different when he was talking about it. He used to look more alive than ever when he was teaching me something especially difficult and when I really got it, he’d praise me and talk about how smart I was and Paps would always be a part of it too.”

 

His voice was quiet when he said, “We thought that he cared.”

 

“And then he changed. The humans had to die, that’s what he told me. He stopped smiling, he stopped talking to us, he stopped _ living _ . And when he taught me, this time it was battle and he’d get furious when I didn’t get it right and when-when Paps stuffed up,” the skeleton ground his teeth in silent anger, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Paps got the worst of it. He tried so hard but he didn’t want to hurt others and Gaster thought he could drag it out of him. In the end, he stopped. Said Paps was a lost cause and threw him to the side like an unwanted piece of trash. I was his main focus now.”

 

“What a damn treat,” G growled.

 

“He was always pushing me. Aim at this, destroy this, be faster, be stronger, be smarter, why are you so  _ weak? _ ” G spat the last word, his sole eye flaring back to life in a furious, golden flame. “I hated him. He didn’t care anymore - he never did - he just hurt everything and everyone and Paps-! Paps still believed in him. Paps kept telling me that we just needed to wait, to support him and hope and at some point, he’d go back to normal and smile for us again. My little bro - he’s always been stronger than me. I stayed there for him. Because he wanted to think that Gaster still had some good in him. And then Gaster took me out one day and told me to murder. ”

 

Their breaths were beginning to steam in the air but that wasn’t the reason Frisk was seemingly frozen in her spot.

 

“They were just a kid, dancing in a frilly, pink tutu. I couldn’t do it. No way in hell. So he did it for me. They were dead before they understood what was happening. The smallest mercy. I was half-broken when we went back to the lab and I realised that if I couldn’t do it, he’d use Paps. Papyrus couldn’t go through that. He couldn’t go through the stupid, heartless garbage Gaster had put me through. So I took Paps and we left.”

 

“Gaster didn’t even put up a fight. He just accepted it. Like we were finally some problems he could just tick off on a list. Paps wasn’t happy about it but we made do. He met Undyne, made friends and he got used to it. And we felt okay. We were free. Or something,” G muttered. 

 

“When the Core malfunctioned and Gaster ‘died’, for a second - just a second -  I mourned him. It was just a second but it meant  _ everything _ . I felt disgusting. How could I still feel sad after what he’d done?  But when I saw his glitched-out form floating around, I was the first to try and talk to him. I tried to talk to him!” he snarled. “ I insulted him, I made jokes, I teased him - all things he would’ve chastised me for - and he said nothing. Well, whaddaya know? He could talk all along. Guess I wasn’t worthy enough to hear his input.”

 

G roughly shoved himself off the wall, the flame in his eye socket whipping dangerously in the air.

 

“And now this! Gaster’s seen a lot. He knows everything that’s going down and he’s feeding us these tidbits of information like it’s a game! Like he’s -”

 

The skeleton thrust his head into his hands, his entire body as tense as a coiled spring. Frisk didn’t dare to move.

 

“The reason I hate this is because I’m sick of him controlling me,” he whispered, dangerously quiet. “Controlling my emotions, controlling my abilities, my brother...I hate it. And now he’s controlling how we fix this. Now he’s controlling what you do and you are  _ always _ off limits.”

 

Frisk silently pried his hand away from his skull and took it into hers, giving him a comforting squeeze.

 

“Nobody’s making me do anything I don’t want to do, G. He never specifically told me to do this. This is me.”

 

“Yeah but you never see it as controlling when it’s happening. It’s only when you step back and -” G abruptly stopped, snuffing his flame out with a swipe of his hand, and exhaled sharply

. 

“Look,” he muttered. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll help.”

 

With that, he took his hand from hers and brushed past, making his way down the steps and back towards the lab.

 

“Let’s get back inside,” he called back. “You’re gonna get cold.”

 

\--

 

They began the next day.

 

Frisk was sitting, cross legged, against the far end of the living room, flanked on both sides by G and Asriel who both bore differing expressions respectively.

 

“Ready when you are, cap’n,” G said, giving her a mock salute and an encouraging grin.

 

“Be careful while you’re in there, Frisk,” Asriel said, solemnly. “We’ll do our best not to hurt you if things go south.”

 

Frisk merely nodded, Now that it was go-time, she couldn’t help but feel tense about the whole ordeal. It wasn’t fear but more like an odd feeling of expectancy. Things were bound to get difficult from here on out.

 

She didn’t let herself dwell on it. It wasn’t at all productive.

 

Instead, Frisk forced herself to relax and plunged into the dark.

 

It was a familiar place. She’d had plenty of time to traverse it while...grieving. The shadows clung to her like cobwebs as she dived past the realm of her own mind and into the uncharted. It was odd in a way - how she and Chara divided themselves. There was little more than a line drawn in the sand to keep the other from passing over and yet, Frisk felt the weight of thousands on her shoulders as she felt that familiar chill set in. She didn’t let herself shiver. It spread through her body, starting at the very tips of her toes then permeating through her legs, her torso, her arms, her fingers until the very roots of her hair. She knew she had arrived when it reached her eyes.

 

Chara was waiting for her.

 

**_I know what you’re here to do_ ** _ ,  _ she said, bemused.

 

_ Yeah, I was banking on it, actually. _

 

**_Ooh, big girl now. Aware of your enemy, are you?_ **

 

_ Don’t goad me. It’s beneath you. _

 

**_You don’t get to dictate that, buttercup. So what is this, therapy? Where’s my fancy couch?_ **

 

_ You don’t get one. _

 

**_Then it ain’t therapy, in my book. I’m not saying a thing without a fancy chair._ **

 

Frisk clenched her fists and rolled her eyes.

 

_ Stop being coy, Chara. Why are you stalling? _

 

**_I’m_ ** **not.**

 

_ That’s not what I’m seeing. _

 

**_Then your eyes are defective, dumbass. Fine. You want to play shrink? Go ahead. See where it gets you._ **

 

Frisk took a deep breath, watching how it sharpened things in her mind for just a second.

 

_ Why do you like to hurt others? _

 

**_Because Santa put a block of coal in my Christmas stocking one year._ **

 

_ Chara. _

 

**_Take a wild guess, genius! Because I enjoy it! Because I'm a soulless psychopath. Because I've always hated people!_ **

 

_ People. Not monsters. _

 

**_What?_ **

 

_ At one point, you cared about monsters. Or, a monster. _

 

**_What are you talking about?_ **

 

_ Back when your influence was helping me with some...issues, i accidentally saw a memory of yours. _

 

The effect was instant. Frisk could tangibly feel Chara freeze, her shock like a wave of thunder crossing to Frisk’s fingertips.

 

**_No._ **

 

_ It was you and Asriel playing in the snow. He gave you a scarf. _

 

**_Shut up._ **

 

_ You said you wanted to protect him. You cared about him. When did that change? _

 

**_You should've never seen that._ **

 

_ But i did and I know it was real. You made me part of it.  Now it's as much of my memory as yours. _

 

Silence. 

 

_ Chara? _

 

**_Get out. Right now. Get out of my head._ **

 

Frisk was struck with disappointment. They’d gotten so far!

 

_ Wait Chara- _

 

**_Don't you dare look into my mind again!_ **

 

_ Chara, I'm sorry- _

 

**_Leave!_ **

 

And  then there was a wall of red shoving her away and Frisk was speeding away and out of Chara’s side, the cold being ripped out of her like a painful bandaid. And Frisk knew she could stop it - she felt the power behind her eyes - but she could also feel Chara’s fury, scorching like a bonfire, so she did nothing but let herself be carried up to break the surface.

 

When Frisk opened her eyes again, sight was accompanied by a splitting headache. Hissing from the pain, she gingerly massaged at her temples and gave an exhausted sigh. 

 

_ A reward for a job well done _ , she thought to herself scornfully.

 

Blinking from the change in setting, she took in her companion’s concerned expressions and gave them a small smile.

 

“How long was I gone?”

 

“A few minutes? Five, tops,” G said. “You okay?”

 

“Yep. Just a headache,” she muttered, a tinge of exasperation colouring her tone. “Hurts like hell.”

 

“How was-how was Chara?” Asriel ventured, shuffling awkwardly with his leaves bent at their stems. Frisk bit her lip.

 

“Um. Reasonably aggravated. I brought up something that I probably shouldn’t have.”

 

At their confused looks, she laughed.

 

“Long story short, Chara does not like sharing.”

 

\--

 

_ We’re doing something new this time. _

 

**_Ooh. Fun._ **

 

It had been a few days since the first attempt and Frisk had made many more in the meantime. Chara had long since abandoned her ‘witty’ banter and had instead resigned herself to the torture she pleasantly described as ‘death by rainbows’. After all, it wasn’t as if she could stop Frisk from doing these sessions. Frisk was currently strong enough to bypass any of the flimsy walls Chara put up. 

 

It was nice to have something go your way.

 

_ I’m inviting you to see some of my memories,  _ Frisk continued. Chara groaned.

 

**_Count me out. I have better things to do than watch you frolic in daisy meadows._ **

 

_ Chara, I just thought it might make you feel better. Since I saw a part of yours, I’d share a part of mine,  _ Frisk explained. Pander to her self-serving side, she reminded herself.

 

**_I don’t want it,_ ** Chara replied, flatly.

 

_ It’s simply an offer, Chara. Just try. _

 

Chara grumbled but she didn’t put up a fight when Frisk allowed some of her memory to seep into their space. Frisk let herself have that tiny moment of relief. At least it was something.

 

Now that she knew Chara wouldn’t try complicating things, Frisk focused on bringing in the memory. It came in swathes, as if she was painting with an especially huge brush. A little blue here, dots of white there, a golden glow, voices seeping through like oil through a thin canvas and then-

 

It was there.

 

Frisk breathed in the nippy air, giggling as she felt a snowflake alight upon her nose. She was twelve during this memory and it was her fourth Christmas spent in the Underground. They were gathered round the big Christmas tree in the town square of Snowdin. Everything was lit up with old christmas lights and huge presents lay unwrapped nearby. Frisk stared after them longingly. She was itching on being able to tear one open. Nearby sat Asgore and Toriel and Undyne and Alphys and Sans and Papyrus and everybody, really, and they were all here for Christmas. 

 

“My leaves are going to freeze off like this.”

 

Oh and Asriel. Never forget Asriel.

 

Frisk held the pot he sat in up to eye level and grinned mischievously.

 

“Would you rather be smothered and warm under my coat?”

 

He pulled a face.

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“Good. Because Toriel would kill me if I got dirt on my new sweater. It’s wool.”

 

**_You know, when I agreed, it was because i thought i might get some dirt on you. This was not what I meant._ **

 

Frisk sighed.

 

_ Just look. _

 

“Hey, kid. How’s it hanging?”

 

12-year-old Frisk didn’t even need to turn around.

 

“Did you get me a present, Sans?”

 

“Heh. Sure did. Feast your eyes on this!”

 

And with that,  Sans thrust a gift-wrapped box into her hands. Breathless with excitement, Frisk tore it open only to be met with-

 

“It’s a hotdog.”

 

“Yes, but it’s a hotdog in fancy packaging.”

 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

 

“Thought that counts?”

 

Frisk shook her head then regarded the mess before her as Sans made his way back to Papyrus’ side with a departing chuckle. Then a splitting grin overtook her features and she turned to Asriel. As he met her gaze, an expression of true trepidation overtook his face.

 

“Frisk?”

 

“C’mere, Azzy. I have something for you.”

 

Within a few minutes and some severe complaints on Asriel’s part, Frisk had haphazardly wrapped the red and green packaging around his pot, balancing the bow on his unimpressed face.

 

“This is obnoxious,” he stated, flatly.

 

“I know!” Frisk grinned. “It suits you.”

 

The flower scoffed and shook his head so that the bow tumbled off.

 

“You are evil.”

 

“So you say.”

 

Without warning, Frisk brought his pot back up to eye level and pressed a delicate peck to his head. When she lowered him back down, he was flushed red.

 

“Merry Christmas, Az.”

 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his leaves turning up to hide his face. “You too or whatever.”

 

Frisk laughed.

 

_ He’s happy, Chara. You used to want that for him, remember? _

 

**_Get me out of this,_ ** Chara snapped. **_I don’t want to see it anymore._ **

 

Even as she complied and let the memory slip away, Frisk gave a long-suffering sigh.

 

_ Chara- _

 

**_Why are you even doing this?_ **

 

_ Because I want them to be happy after all this is done. _

 

**_And?_ ** Chara hissed. **_You don’t think past versions of you have tried to do the exact same thing? And look, it all ends up the same anyway. I mean the reason this discussion is even happening is because they failed._ **

 

Frisk said nothing, lips pursed tight.

 

**_What makes you any different, huh?_ **

 

\--

“...and that’s why I’m asking,” Frisk finished. “Chara’s right. There were definitely other ‘me’s that must’ve tried this same thing. What’s going to make me any different?”

 

G looked up from his wiring kit and eyed her for a second, thoughtful. Frisk shifted in her spot upon the workplace bench, slightly embarrassed from the scrutiny.

 

“I’d say that there’s a lot that makes you special. Too much to list off, kid. But just remember. You gotta think about it like this,” he said, gesturing around them with his gloved hands. “If we have the slightest chance of making this right, we just have to hope. It’s all we have.”

 

As he began to turn back to his work, he paused for a moment.

 

“And you know, sometimes hope is enough,” he finished.

 

“Optimistic,” Frisk muttered even as a small smile brightened her features.

 

“Side effects from being around you, kid,” he replied, grinning, as he ruffled her short hair fondly. After a moment, he paused, his expression replaced by something a bit more sombre. “But, you know, you’ve gotta stop letting Chara run circles round you. Remember, you’re doing all this for a reason.”

 

Frisk brought her knees to her chest, resting her chin on the tops of them as she quietly watched G return to his precious machine.

 

“Yeah.”

\--

 

Asriel was in the living room when she returned, just as she left him,  drifting off on the shelf next to the TV.

 

“Hey sleepyhead.”

 

Frisk knelt down beside him as he stirred, resting her elbows on the shelf he sat upon. Asriel blinked at her blearily, a half-scowl spreading over his features.

 

“Frisk, you better have a good reason for waking me up. That damned skeleton’s been working me to the bone.”

 

He scrunched his face up in disgust.

 

“That joke was not intended,” he added.

 

“I’m sure,” Frisk replied with a smug grin. Asriel rolled his eyes.

 

“So what did you need?”

 

Frisk bit her lip yet steadily locked gazes with him. A solemn frown had replaced her grin.

 

“You know, I actually wanted to ask about Chara.”

 

Asriel stared at her for a long time before answering.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Just tell me anything you’re comfortable with, Azzy.”

 

For the next few torturous minutes, the only sound between them was the faint ‘plink’ of their kitchen’s leaky faucet. Frisk sighed.

 

“Okay. I understand.”

 

“No. Wait,” Asriel said quickly. “I’ll say this.”

 

He shifted slightly in his spot on the shelf, his eyes concentrated squarely on the floor.

 

“When she was still alive, she-she wasn’t perfect. But she was my best friend,” he muttered quietly. “I loved her. I thought she felt the same for us as well.”

 

He paused then looked up at Frisk, his face solemn yet certain.

 

“At one point, I was sure of it.”

 

Frisk brushed her fingertips against his petals.

 

“Thank you, Asriel.”

 

He gave her a wavering smile.

 

“It’s okay.”

\--

 

Frisk couldn’t sleep. Night had fallen and she was draped on the couch, curled up around a peacefully snoring Asriel. A comfortable darkness shrouded the living room. Frisk sighed and shifted for the nth time that night, as if the microscopic change in position would suddenly cause sleep to rush in. It didn’t.

 

Frisk blinked up at the ceiling. She could still hear G in his workshop.

 

Accepting defeat, Frisk threw the covers from her and climbed off the couch, making sure to not disturb Asriel in the process. It was useless to try to sleep. She had too much on her mind. Thoughts whirling, Frisk silently padded across the room, laced up her boots and slid out the door into the brisk air.

 

It wasn’t snowing that night and the air was pleasant so Frisk took her time as she traipsed towards the town square. It was easier to be outside now that some considerable time had passed. At times, Frisk swore she could almost see the faintest remnants of the monsters that dwelled there before. A near-silent greeting, the vague smell of freshly baked cinnamon bunny, the pale flash of light from within a nearby window - Frisk treasured them in their fleeting nature. They were reminders of what she was fighting for. As imperceptible wisps of what had been, they merely fuelled her urge to get back to the real thing.

 

Frisk had arrived at her destination but it was missing something integral. With a quick, searching sweep of her eyes, she found it laying on its side a few yards away. It must have been blown away by that storm a few days ago.

 

She hauled it back to its spot, grunting from exertion, and replaced each decoration in their exact spot with inexplicable care. When she was finished she crouched down beneath it and gazed up at it with pride.

 

The Christmas tree had gone through a lot of wear and tear during this ordeal but she’d made it one of her duties to see to its ongoing maintenance. There were a lot of good memories she had about this place. Frisk needed it here.

 

Earlier, Frisk had shown Chara one of her memories around this tree. She wondered if Chara was peering through her eyes now, scoffing at the sight of the damned tree. Chara probably thought this was all part of her huge scheme to ‘reform’ her. Frisk rocked back and forth on her haunches, thoughtful. She wondered if Chara was wrong in that assumption. 

 

What was she doing, really?  This reforming thing wasn’t exactly producing results. Frisk knew these things took time but they didn’t have the luxury of it anymore. And honestly, rehabilitating a proven psychotic killer had probably been a lost cause from the get-go. 

 

Frisk smacked herself hard.

 

She couldn’t think like that. The others were relying on her.

 

Out of nowhere, a sudden chill permeated the air. Frisk felt goosebumps rise on her skin and she sighed, watching as her breath steamed in the air.

 

“Hello, Gaster.”

 

“ **7tH.** ”

 

“I have a name, you know.”

 

“ **YeS. YOu Do.** ”

 

Frisk scowled and resisted the urge to bury her head in her hands. Gaster was undoubtedly infuriating.

 

“So. Why are you here?”

 

“ **YoU aRE TroUBLed** .”

 

“How perceptive. Truly you are all-knowing, wise one.”

 

“ **QUieT. I Am hEre oN My oWN aCCord tO gUiDe yoU. Do nOT tAkE tHAt fOr gRAnted.** ”

 

At that, Frisk fell silent. He was right, she supposed. 

 

“Chara said something today that made me feel...conflicted,” she said. “She told me there were many before who tried to do the same. What makes me different? What makes you feel like this time it’ll work?”

 

“ **I HavE nO suCH FaiTH. ThEre iS merELy thE StaTisticaL chANce oF EnoUGh TenACity, IntELLigence And CompAssiOn thRough whiCH a SatisfActory End ResULT caN Be AchievEd.** ”

 

“Has there ever been anything close to that in previous cycles?”

 

Gaster turned to stare at her, his eyes seemingly boring into her.

 

“ **ThAT iS a StUPid quEstIoN.** ”

 

Frisk rolled her eyes.

 

“Fine. One more, then,” she muttered, her eyes falling to the ground once more. “Was Chara ever good?”

 

Gaster was silent for a long time.

 

“ **ChaRA wAs HuMAn** .”

\--

 

Asriel opened his eyes by just a crack as he felt the couch dip with Frisk’s weight.

 

“Where did you go?” he murmured sleepily as she tucked the blanket around them.

 

“Was hungry. Got a snack from the kitchen,” she whispered, low and soft, as she settled next to him.

 

“You pig,” he chided and both of them knew there was no real annoyance in it. 

 

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

 

Asriel gave a vague grunt. He was already drifting off back to sleep.

 

“Lemme sleep…” he muttered. Frisk laughed quietly but she was already floating far away.

 

“Good night, Azzy.”

 

\--

 

The next day, Frisk prepared herself to once more talk to Chara. Today, she was planning something risky. 

 

**_A merE StaTisticaL chANce…_ **

 

It was okay, she decided. You wouldn’t get anywhere without putting something on the line.

 

“You ready?” G asked, his hand a comforting presence on the small of her back. She eyed him for a second then drew him in for a tight hug. Nearby, Asriel made a gagging sound and Frisk laughed.

 

It was okay. Things were okay.

 

“I’m ready,” she said finally and sat down, the others settling by her each side. She took a long, hard look at both of them and smiled reassuringly. “Things are going to be okay.”

 

And, before they could ask her what she meant, Frisk plunged deep into her mind and sank.

 

\--

 

**_You’re back._ **

 

_ Yeah. I am. _

 

 ** _Do you really think you can reform me?_** Chara asked mockingly. **_Asriel and Sans must’ve told you enough about me._**

 

_ I’m not trying to reform you anymore. _

 

**_And why is that?_ **

 

_ Because you’re incorrigible. _

 

**_Heh._ ** Chara was smug.

 

_ But also because I don’t think you really meant to come back at all. Not this time at least. _

 

**_What?_ **

 

_ I mean, this one was good. Nobody died. During those cycles, you never showed up. There wasn’t even a hint of you before now. So why this time? What made this run different? _

 

Chara had lost her grin.

 

_ At one point, you were good, Chara. You weren’t perfect but you were human. And you used to leave us alone. You let us be happy. Why did you come back? _

 

The tension in the air was palpable. Frisk didn’t dare breathe in the silence that followed. Yet, finally, Chara gave a mirthless laugh. 

 

**_Fine. You really want to know how this happened?_ ** Chara hissed, low and venomous, and Frisk couldn’t help but hope **_. Well, it was them._ **

 

_ Who? _

 

Chara gestured towards the space above them, forcefully, as if she was stupid.

 

**_Them. Up there. The person orchestrating this whole thing._ ** Chara paused, her teeth digging into her lip from irritation.  **_They're probably looking at this situation like its the coolest shit they've ever seen. Like we’re animals in a zoo._ **

 

_ I-I never took you as the type to believe in a god, Chara. _

 

**_They’re not a god._ ** Chara spat.  **_They just enjoy acting like one. They like deciding whether this time everybody lives or everybody dies or ‘ooh, maybe this time we can have a bit of each!’. At least I’m clear with my purposes._ **

 

Frisk was incredibly confused. 

 

_ What are you even talking about? _

 

**_Ugh! You’re so slow._ ** Chara growled. **_Fine, I’ll put it into terms you might be able to understand. Basically, this entire situation is being orchestrated by_ ** **them** **_. They’re the person who decide whether you’re going to be Frisk this time or Chara or a mix. They’re the one who resets, who saves, who controls your every move. And you don’t understand that you’re being controlled because you’re a part of all this. You’d only realise once you took a step back and really saw what was going on. Like me. Being part of the void has its advantages._ **

 

Frisk’s thoughts were running at a hundred miles per hour.  G’s words echoed in  her mind, loud and clear.

 

‘ _ You never see it as controlling when it’s happening. It’s only when you step back… _ ’

 

_ But this time everybody lived.  _ Frisk scrambled for a foothold. _ Up until recently, I mean. That means that they - up there - wanted them to be happy. What changed that? _

 

**_They got bored!_ ** Chara declared as if it was obvious. **_They always do. They got sick of their old goody-two-shoes shtick and decided they’d mix it up a bit!  It couldn’t hurt to just kill one of them would it? And after all, even if it did, it’d be interesting to watch!_ **

 

Frisk could feel Chara’s fury. It was almost tangible, a red that clawed at the edges of her mind.

 

**_So they killed the kid. And then I’m here. I only killed one of them so my influence is weak. That’s why ol’ skele-boy managed to subdue me. By the way, wasn’t it nice of him to leave us starving down there while chaos reigned? You’ve gotta thank him for me._ **

 

Frisk closed her eyes and took a steadying breath.

 

_ It was for them. _

 

**_Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, princess._ **

 

Frisk took a moment to collect her thoughts. Things were turning upside down with the knowledge of this mysterious person but within her, despite how peculiar it was, she knew that Chara was telling her the truth. Had she always known?

 

_ You were weak. You said it yourself, _ she managed to say. _ So why did you stay? You could’ve just not interfered. _

 

**_What’s done was done. And besides, it wasn’t like you were doing a great job in my absence._ **

 

_ What are you talking about? _

 

**_The barrier. From what I remember, you chose to leave it closed._ **

 

Frisk swallowed hard.

 

_ They weren’t ready. Monsterkind don’t know how terrible humanity can be. _

 

**_Yeah, right._ ** Chara scoffed.  **_You say that as if you think i don’t know a thing about that. Excuse me, you’re practically talking to the personification of the cruelty of humanity!_ **

 

_ Chara, I- _

 

**_I can’t believe I’m doing this but I agree with that stupid skeleton. Whether they’re ready or not - that isn’t your choice to make._ **

 

Frisk snapped her mouth shut, her brow furrowed with guilt.

 

**_Your problem is that you’re scared. You’re scared of possibilities of harm and punishment because of you. And you know what? You are not allowed to do that anymore. This isn’t just about you anymore._ **

 

Chara shot forward and dug her into Frisk’s shoulders, red mere inches from chocolate. 

 

**_Wake up and smell the_ ** **fucking** **_roses._ ** She snarled.  **_You have all the hopes and dreams of monsterkind behind you. You are not allowed to be afraid anymore!_ **

 

Frisk couldn’t help the tears that began to roll down her cheeks. Impossibly, Chara’s grip relented slightly and her features softened, although the fire in her eyes were not yet doused.

 

**_Do it for them. You love them don’t you?_ **

 

Frisk nodded her head furiously, currently unable to speak from fear of sobbing.

 

**_And if you can’t do that, do it for them, up there._ ** Chara gestured upwards once more.  **_So that they don’t get bored again. Because if that happens, I’ll come back twice as strong and they_ ** **will** **_suffer._ ** **You** **_will suffer. Understand?_ **

 

_ Yes!  _ Frisk blurted out.

 

**_Then get out of here._ ** Chara muttered as she withdrew.  **_I’ve told you everything you need to know._ **

 

At that, Chara turned away to leave, already fading into the darkness.

 

_ Thank you! _ Frisk called after them.  _ Thank you. _

 

Just as she was about to completely disappear, Chara turned to face Frisk. Her eyes burned bright.

 

**_Just do your part._ **

 

\--

 

Chara was young when she fell into the Underground. It wasn’t by accident.

 

She wasn’t stupid; she’d heard the stories about people going up Mt Ebott and never being seen again and had thought that was a pretty sweet deal. So on a harsh day, Chara had scrambled up there, burning with anger and fear and spite, and fell. 

 

The moment her legs gave out underneath her and into open air, Chara couldn't say she was surprised. Falling to her death wasn't the most glamorous way to go but she'd take what the universe dealt out. But death didn't await her, nope. That would be way too kind of fate. Instead there was a sprained ankle and an aching back and a mouth full of dirt. Oh,  _ goody _ .

 

Chara was kind of annoyed, to be honest. Death by falling would be too easy, wouldn’t it? No, they had to drag it out into freaking starvation. Honestly. But just as she was resigning herself to her fate, she met him.

 

“H-hello?”

 

Chara blinked. Was there someone else down here with her?

 

“Hi,” she answered flatly. Damn, it really hurt to move. Wait - were those _ flowers _ beneath her?

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“No. My leg hurts.”

 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

They sounded like a kid.

 

“Don’t be. I did this on my own,” Chara said as her eyes roamed around her environment. She was surrounded by broken pillars and shadows. Where were they?

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s a bit complicated.”

 

The sound of shoes scuffing on the ground alerted her to his presence. When she turned to look at him, her eyes went wide. 

 

It was a kid. A literal kid. A goat-child. And he wore a striped jumper and pants and shoes and - was he holding a bouquet?

 

“Does it still hurt?” he asked shyly, pointing at her limp leg. Chara started back into reality.

 

“Um. Yes?”

 

The goat-child looked thoughtful for a moment. Chara had the irrational thought that his fur looked soft.

 

“I’ll go get my mum,” he said finally. “She’ll know what to do.”

 

And with that, he ran off.

 

Chara was in shock.

 

Yet again, she was not stupid. There had been stories of monsters and how they’d gone underground after the Great War but she’d always thought of them as fairy tales made by people with too much time. And, to think that they lived under this very mountain! Chara slumped back into her pile of flowers. 

 

She was definitely dreaming.

 

But then there was the unmistakable sound of running and he was back, now flustered.

 

“Sorry!” he said quickly. “I was really rude. What’s your name?”

 

“Chara,” Chara answered automatically. He grinned.

 

“I’m Asriel!”

 

And then he placed his little bouquet of flowers next to her and left once more. 

 

\--

 

Chara felt disturbingly comfortable, living in the Underground. She didn’t exactly believe in fate but her falling just as Asriel was there seemed like it couldn’t be anything else.

 

Asgore and Toriel were kind. They were parents she never had and she treasured them along with the rest of monsterkind. 

 

They were so full of love. It was terrifying.

 

And Chara grew from tolerating them to enjoying their presence to loving them with all of her heart and more. It was like a dream.

 

\--

 

But you always wake up from dreams. 

 

Because one day, Asriel wondered wistfully what it would be like on the surface and it all came back. The bad of humanity, Chara’s deep, unfailing hatred for all that it was and stood for and now - something new - the fear of what would happen to monsterkind if they were to meet. 

 

The unthinkable. The impossible. Chara couldn’t help it. 

 

She thought of death.

 

A panic struck her, powerful and suffocating. She couldn’t let them die. They didn’t deserve the filth doled out by humanity. They didn’t deserve to be  _ tainted,  _ like she was. But they didn’t deserve to stay, stuck underground, forever either. 

 

Chara changed.  For them, she said.  _ It was for them.  _

 

They’d given her a purpose now. They’d given her a way to use this fury of hers. And she’d make them proud. She would give them a life on the surface. 

 

A life without humanity.

 

\--

 

They were powerful enough. Chara had seen it for herself.

 

How Asgore had lifted up trees with his bare hands. How magic was overwhelmingly versatile, how it could achieve anything!

 

Asriel was her friend. Asriel would understand.

 

\--

 

The buttercups in the pie were an experiment. She laughed at the consequences, at Asgore, bedridden. She was drunk off of the possibilities. 

 

She could do this. She could save them all.

 

\--

 

The world was spinning. Chara was hot and cold, burning and ice. Voices attempted to weave their way through the fog of her mind but they never reached her.

 

Chara smiled. She was dying. For them.

 

Asriel - she had to remind herself - Asriel was carrying her in his arms. She wanted to see the buttercups. 

 

Chara wondered idly if those were her tears or his.

 

\--

 

Red.

 

Everything was red.

 

Chara was giddy with the power at her fingertips. She could do it! She could free them!

 

Asriel screamed.

 

Their blood ran cold.

 

\--

 

Chara was holding on by a thread. 

 

She saw things, blurry and misshapen. Toriel (why did she matter again?) was holding her, gentle in mourning. Asgore (who was he again?) was flung to the side. There was anger and rage and with her, she could feel the faint touch of her friend. The friend she lost.

 

Asriel was dead. 

 

Chara couldn’t even cry.

 

\--

 

Chara stared up blankly as she was buried, watching as the earth blocked out the light until she was in darkness. 

 

It was quiet down there.

 

Chara decided to sleep.

 

\--

 

And then she woke up.

 

At first, there was only confusion. She was dead, wasn’t she? Her plan had failed!

 

But she still had a body with legs and fingers and a mind and - oh.

 

It wasn’t hers.

 

Understanding began to trickle in. Chara couldn’t help but smile.

 

\--

 

Chara had changed.

 

Without a soul, her love for monsterkind had left her. And now, only the burning, soul-crushing loathing for humanity remained.

 

It was their choice where to take her, Chara thought to herself as she watched her host proceed through the Underground.

 

Feed the right wolf.

 

\--

 

Chara grew too used to waking up.

 

_ What will it be this time? _ she thought to herself, bored. 

 

Pacifism or genocide?

 

Chara wondered if the player knew she was aware of their machinations.

 

About how she spectated from the sides during the good runs. 

 

About how she let loose during genocide because it was temporary anyway.

 

Chara wondered if the player knew she was tired.

 

\--

 

It was a good run. It had been for so long.

 

Chara stared at the knife in her hands in shock. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She wasn’t supposed to have power!

 

Chara felt her rage bubble up and fester like poison in her throat.

 

She wanted to scream.

 

\--

 

Sans took her. 

 

Chara didn’t bother to put up much of a fight.

 

\--

 

Chara screamed in Asriel’s face.

 

She screamed as he dove underground, screamed until she was sure he was gone. 

 

And then she wiped away her black, ugly tears and breathed.

 

She had to keep Frisk alive.

 

\--

 

He was different. All of them were.

 

But now he had part of  _ Gaster _ in him and that made Chara want to puke.

 

Chara let him take Frisk back.

 

He’d sure taken his time.

 

\--

 

He was an idiot.

 

He’d left Frisk alone in such a vulnerable state - what was he thinking?

 

Begrudgingly, Chara did her best to shield Frisk from the pain within her.

 

Chara made Frisk cold.

 

\--

 

Frisk didn’t need her anymore. 

 

G had taken up the mantle -  _ finally _ .

 

\--

 

Chara grated her teeth.

 

It was _ always _ Gaster, wasn’t it?

 

\--

 

Frisk remembered.

 

Chara played her part.

 

\--

 

Frisk wanted to reform her.

 

What an idiot.

 

\--

 

Frisk was kinder than her. Frisk made Asriel happy. 

 

Chara didn’t need to see a memory to prove it.

 

She’d been watching the whole time.

 

\--

 

Sometimes, Chara wondered if she should tell Frisk that no matter what run she did, whether it was pacifist or genocidal, Chara would still be carried along.

 

When Frisk fell, Chara would always be absorbed. It was a constant.

 

At length, Chara decided against it. It was better for Frisk to think that there was line between them. 

 

\--

 

When Frisk hadn’t opened the barrier, Chara was irritated.

 

But then she saw her thoughts and her anger became a relentless fury because it turned out they were alike in  _ some _ ways.

 

_ For them _ , she spat into the dark recesses of Frisk’s mind.  _ For them! _

 

\--

 

Chara watched as Frisk left and fell into the embrace of her friends. She wasn’t really crying at all - Chara noted, detached - it was more like a weak dribbling. Nonetheless, they fussed over her like a pair of mother hens. G - Chara scowled at the sight of him (he would never  _ not _ annoy her) - was especially concerned, asking repeatedly what had happened. Frisk merely shook her head and gave a shaky yet sincere smile.

 

Like always, Chara’s eyes were drawn to the flower who was currently being held close to Frisk’s chest.

 

Asriel.

 

Chara started at the stirring in her chest and scowled at it in annoyance. It had been a long time since Chara felt love, however weak and measly it was. It wasn’t even her own, she chided herself. It was stolen, a side effect from having merged with Frisk during a good run.

 

Nevertheless, it was warm like fire, tickling up through her stomach and clutching at her heart in a way that was not completely unpleasant. 

 

Chara sighed and closed her eyes. 

 

These smiling idiots had made her care. 

\------

 

They had begun to talk, every now and then, which was odd because it was nothing relevant. They just talked about Frisk’s memories and her plans for the future. At times, Chara didn’t even bother to participate in conversation but, to her chagrin, Frisk didn’t seem to mind. What were they, friends? Chara scoffed at the idea but she found herself begrudgingly tolerating Frisk’s more frequent attempts. However, one day Frisk brought up something insane.

 

**_You want me to what?_ ** Chara was incredulous.

 

_ I don’t want you to do anything. This is your choice. I just thought...it might be good for you. _

 

**_Good for me?_ **

 

_ Okay. Bad wording. But you get what I mean. _

 

**_And where did this come from, huh?_ **

 

_ I know you cared about Asriel. And I know Asriel cares about you. He wants to talk to you. I can tell. He’s just too proud to ask for it. _

 

**_So you’ve taken it into your own hands?_ ** Frisk couldn’t tell if Chara was approving or disgusted.

 

_ Yeah. Are you...are you okay with it? _

 

Chara stared at the ground for a long time, contemplative.

 

**_Yeah. I’ll do it,_ ** she answered at length. Frisk blinked in surprise.

 

_ Really? _

 

**_This is the only chance I’ll get at talking to him in semi-sensible state. Might as well,_ ** she answered flatly.  **_But you know nothing’s going to come from this, right?_ **

 

Frisk shrugged.

 

_ Then at least I tried. _

 

**_G’s not going to be happy about it,_ ** Chara said, a half-smirk crossing her features.

 

_ I’ll convince him. _

 

\--

 

**_You actually convinced him?_ ** Chara’s eyes went wide. **_Well, it’s about time to pick up some new ice-skates. Hell’s frozen over._ **

 

_ C’mon, give me some credit.  _ Frisk couldn’t help but smile _. It wasn’t too hard. _

 

**_Okay, sure. What’s the catch?_ ** Chara leaned back and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

 

Frisk opened her mouth as if to answer then shut it again.

 

_ You’ll...find out,  _ she answered at length.

 

**_What the hell does that mean?_ **

\--

 

And that was how Frisk ended up back in the secret lab, shackled, in the capsule from where G had first retrieved her from. The red light above her cast sombre shadows over everything, Frisk found. Very atmospheric. 

 

“You alright in there?” G called from outside the glass, gesturing to the chains that kept her from moving too much.

 

“Yep. It’s cozy.”

 

G sighed.

  
“Don’t pull that face, kid,” he said quietly. “I’m just trying to be safe.”

 

“I know. This just seems a bit...overboard.”

 

Frisk tried to lift her hands up to gesture round but found she could barely lift them a metre off the floor before the chains started digging in.

 

“You can never be too safe.”

 

He was right, Frisk conceded. She was going soft.

 

Frisk flicked her gaze to the side where Asriel sat, thoughtful and so far silent.

 

“Azzy?” 

 

He started, as if jolted out of a daze.

 

“You okay there?”

 

“As okay as I could probably be, given the circumstances,” he said, looking away. 

 

“It’ll be okay, Az.”

 

“That’s not really what I’m worrying about but thanks.”

 

With a sigh, Frisk leant back against the wall.

 

“You ready?” she asked. G gave her a quick nod. Asriel stiffened.

 

Frisk took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

 

_ How about you? _

 

**_I’m here, Frisk._ **

 

Chara sounded different. Nervous. Frisk didn’t point it out. Chara probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

 

_ Behave.  _

 

Chara scoffed.

 

**_Not like I have a choice in the matter._ **

 

And with that, Frisk sank deep into the dark as Chara rose, by her will, up to the surface.

 

When the girl in the cell opened her eyes once more, they were red.

 

Even though she was more alert than she had ever been, Chara yawned and blinked lazily. She sent a toothy grin G’s way, smirking as his scowl deepened.

 

“These restraints really aren’t necessary, you know?” she declared loudly. “I’m not strong enough to takeover. The only reason i’m here is because your sunshine child is letting me.”

 

“Consider it a precautionary message.”

 

Chara rolled her eyes.

 

“Yes, professor,” she called after him as G left her line of sight, smiling as his shoulders tensed at the word ‘professor’, 

_ Play nice _ , Frisk’s voice said.

 

**_I am._ **

 

Chara’s smug grin disappeared as G came back into view, this time holding Asriel. He placed him down on the floor in front of her and took a step back, his face drawn into a snarl.

 

“You have ten minutes,”he said flatly and promptly left.

 

Chara almost didn’t hear him. Her eyes were fixed on the golden flower sat squarely before her.

 

It was different seeing him through her own eyes rather than Frisk’s. It was more real. More painful, she realised as she finally put a name to that odd feeling piercing her chest. As Chara made to speak, her throat suddenly closed up as if preempting tears and now she was irritated. What the hell was happening? 

 

**_Are you doing this?_ ** she snapped.

 

_ What? Doing what? _

 

She mentally groaned. Frisk definitely was not doing this; her confusion showed. That meant this was her body making her feel this.

 

Chara hated being human. 

 

Chara took a deep breath. They were just words. Not that hard.

 

“Hey Azzy.” Chara was proud of how her strong her voice was. He finally flicked his gaze towards her.

 

“Chara.”

 

Good. They were talking at least. Chara’s chest seized up and then out of her mouth came a stream of words.

 

“The only reason this is even happening is because I’m weak,” she said casually. “I only killed one of you and Frisk has been the primary soul for a long time. So it means that I’ve taken on some of her compassion by proxy.”

 

She paused to gauge his reaction. He merely looked at the floor with a conflicted expression on his face.

 

“Just so you know,” she added, just to fill that god-awful gap of silence. Asriel gave a sharp, humourless laugh.

 

“So what you’re saying is that this is basically a sham,”he muttered bitterly.

 

Chara blinked, confused. What? No. That’s not what she meant at all.

 

“Why did I expect anything else?” he continued and he turned as if preparing to leave. 

 

“No! Wait.” Chara cried out, embarrassed by the urgency in her tone. What was she, 9? Nevertheless, she gritted her teeth and continued. “This is the only chance I’ll ever get to do this. I mean these circumstances are pretty specific, after all. And right now…”

 

“...right now, I’m more of who I was when you knew me than I ever will be,” she finished quietly as her gaze fell to the floor.

 

Asriel was facing her again. He was stupidly familiar.

 

“So then-” he began.

 

“I never meant for you to die.” Chara blurted out. She peered up from under her lashes to see his expression. Was that-? Oh, who was she kidding. She couldn’t interpret emotion anymore. But if she had to chance a guess, it would be...the word would be ‘tired’.

 

“Yeah, I know,” he said softly. Between them sprung a long, tense silence. Chara could’ve screamed. God, how she hated these sorts of things. Why had she agreed to this, again?

 

“At the start…”

 

Chara started at surprise at the sound of Asriel’s voice.

 

“At the start, was that real? At some point, did you actually care?”

 

For some stupid reason, the image of that bouquet he’d given her at the beginning appeared in her mind. Chara remembered they’d taken it back home and put it in a vase in their shared bedroom. It had made them smell like a sweet garden.

 

“Yeah,” she managed to say, gruffly.

 

She didn’t know what Asriel had expected. If anything, her answer had made him look even more downcast. Chara scowled. She couldn’t do this. Not anymore. She was at her limit.

 

She never should’ve agreed to do this.

 

“I-I think I’m gonna leave now,” she said and she hated that waver at the start, she _ loathed _ it. This time it was Asriel’s turn to interrupt.

 

“Wait!” he said and then she looked at him, really looked, and Chara saw fear and hope and remorse all in one.

 

“I still water your grave. With Mum and Dad. We all do!” he exclaimed, his eyes shimmering. Chara held his gaze and chanced a tiny smile.

 

“I know.”

 

Asriel let out a shaky breath and gave her short, sharp nod. Then he disappeared into the ground. Chara closed her eyes and released the breath she’d been holding in relief.

 

She hated that. She hated feeling weak, like she could cry if she could still feel. And that out there had been everything she hated. Just emotion and past conflict and she could never heal all the wounds out there no matter how many explanations she gave - not that she would if she could. 

 

Chara was prepared to curl into a ball and let herself sink in the dark for the next decade but she was jolted back into reality with the sound of a hand being slammed against the glass. As she opened her eyes, she came face to face with G, a golden flame burning steadily in his flame socket.

 

Finally. Something she could handle.

 

“Hey there, trashbag,” she said as she gave him a winning smile. “What’s up?”

 

“Just here to remind you about your place here.”

 

“And what is that?”

 

“Non-existent,” he snarled. “When Frisk goes back, you don’t interfere.”

 

Chara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. As if she could. 

 

“I promise,” she said in her sing-song voice. “I’ll be good.”

 

“Don’t do that with me,” he snapped, his eyes thin black slits. “I swear, you step one foot out of line and you’ll have hell to pay.”

 

Chara couldn’t help but laugh, her giggles echoing through the chamber.

 

“Sorry, G. You won’t be around to enforce your stupid threat.”

 

Silence.

 

“Do you wanna know why I choose to stay with Frisk?” she smiled, her head tilting to the side coyly. “Because there are only a select few potential vessels who remain in this realm.”

 

Chara shifted, bringing her hands up to gesture as she spoke.

“First, Gaster. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pitchfork. Second, Asriel. Off limits. No way. And then, you,” Chara smirked, devious. “You’re not even a real constant. The only reason you're here is because that damned scientist rooted you down himself. So guess what? When you turn that machine on and send her back? You and all your memories will die with this place.”

 

“Do you think that matters to me?” he muttered, his expression stony. 

 

“Not at all. But what about her?” Chara pointed at her head, her hand in the shape of a gun and mock-shot herself, falling to the ground in a sprawled, grinning mess.

 

“Poof,” she whispered and, with that, Chara was gone.  

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, guys! The end you've all been waiting for.

“What the hell was that?” Frisk asked as G wordlessly began to free her from her restraints. “G? Was Chara telling the truth back then?”

 

The skeleton, finished with her left manacle, moved onto the right and remained infuriatingly silent. However, Chara gave no similar treatment.

 

**_Yes, I was._ **

 

_ Shut up. _

 

“About how you’re going to-to die?”

 

**_C’mon Frisk. Don’t be a baby._ **

 

With a soft click, the last of the restraints unclasped. G made to stand up but was stopped by a surprisingly strong hand dragging him down to eye level, trapping him there.

 

“Tell me,” Frisk all but ordered, a dangerous glint in her eyes that dared him to ignore her once more. He held her gaze with eyes that seemed far too hollow.

 

“Yes,” he whispered gruffly. “Chara’s right.”

 

Frisk inhaled sharply, eyebrows creasing in an untold emotion, and the hand clenched around G’s forearm tightened imperceptibly. Her other hand clenched and unclenched quickly on the tiled floor.

 

**_Told you so._ **

 

_ I said shut up. _

 

“How? Why?”

 

“You were listening, weren’t you?” he muttered. “I’m an irregularity. This version of me only exists in this world. So when you go back to the real one and this place falls apart...I’ll disappear with it.”

 

At that, Frisk’s grip loosened enough that G could pry his arm away. He watched her stare at the 

floor blankly with sullen eyes.

 

**_Drama queen._ ** Chara snickered. Frisk squeezed her eyes shut, her lips pulled tight in a grimace.

 

_ Go away. _

 

Chara gave an incredulous laugh.

 

_ Frisk, I swear- _

 

**_Leave!_ ** she shouted and Chara was gone, shoved away by the force of her anger. Fingernails digging into the tender area of her palm, Frisk opened her eyes once more and glared holes into the ground. 

 

“So the original Sans-” she whispered.

 

“He won’t remember any of it. Yeah.” G stuffed his hands into his pockets and made himself look away. Things were tense. Frisk could feel Chara’s indignation bubbling low in the background.

 

“And you’re okay with this?” she said, disbelieving, as she got to her feet in defiance.

 

“It’s not like I have a choice,” G replied, his tone hard. Frisk strode forward, her arms spread wide in protest.

 

“You always do! When did you realise this?”

 

G gave her a look then gave a slow, despairing sigh.

 

“When I first found the time bubbles in the echo flowers.”

 

“You knew for so long and you didn’t even think about telling me?” Frisk practically seethed with fury.

 

“Of course I thought about it!”

 

“But you never did!”

 

“Because I knew this would happen!”

 

“What the hell does that mean?”

 

“You’d overreact-!”

 

“Overreact?” Frisk floundered for a second, frustrated. “You just confirmed that you’re gonna die and you’re not even going to try to stop it!”

 

“Yeah, because it’s inescapable! It’s scripted, kid. It has to happen! Like how we meet or how you fall!”

 

“I thought you didn’t believe in fate.”

 

Her mouth was a hard, unrelenting line.

 

“I don’t,” G said flatly. “I believe in a future that we can dictate ourselves. And if I have to die for that future then, fine.”

 

He turned away to pace around the room, his hands stuffed into his pockets in exasperation.

 

“Listen,” he said, teeth clenched. “If I can come to terms with it, why can’t you?”

 

“Because I-”

 

_ Because I can’t do this without you. _

 

Frisk’s eyes widened. From when G had confirmed Chara’s statement, she had been struck with that desperation but it was only then that solid words and reasoning had emerged from it and now-

 

Now, she didn’t know what to do. 

 

G came to a stop nearby and huffed out a tired sigh.

 

“C’mon, Frisk. Let’s just go.”

 

She swallowed, hard.

 

“There must be a way to save you.”

 

“There isn’t.”

 

“How would you know?There’s always been a way before.”

 

“Well I’m an exception.”

 

“You can’t just decide that on your own!”

 

Suddenly, G whirled around and took her by her shoulders, his face taut with determination. Frisk could feel her heart pounding in her ribcage but it definitely wasn’t fear. Fear had long gone been left behind.

 

“We have 2 days left, Frisk,” he muttered firmly. “We are so close. We can’t afford detours.”

 

Frisk stared at him, her rigid body going limp as white-hot resentment began to seep out of her frame.

 

“Your life is not a detour,” she croaked out, her eyes trained on the ground as if it would stem the hot tears that threatened to fall. Fuelled on by a fresh wave of fury, she gritted her teeth and shouted, “Goddammit, G, you matter!” 

 

His hands that rested on her shoulders crept up and cupped her face, a gentle thumb reaching up to wipe away those traitorous feelings.

 

“Just, don’t cry, Frisk,” he whispered. “ Please.”

 

“I can’t let you die like this,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Not again. Never again.”

 

The feeling of his touch fell away as he went stock still in surprise.

 

“That- that’s not what this is, Frisk. Is that what you think this is?”

 

“How could it be anything else?”

 

“You’re saving them, kid You’re going back home. Thing will go back to normal.”

 

“But you have to die.”

 

G was silent for a moment.

 

“It’s a small price to pay.”

 

Frisk’s hands balled into fists at her side and she swept past him, head bowed in displeasure. G seemed to deflate, slumping in resignation.

 

“Frisk-”

 

“I need to think, G,” she muttered, sharply, even as she stomped up the steps and out of the lab. “At least let me do that.”

 

\--

 

Flowey stared at his surroundings and tried not to feel hollow.

 

The fireplace was finally burning itself out and the embers sputtered weakly, casting a pathetic, faded glow over the wooden floorboards. The measly presence wasn’t enough for sight and the corridor that led off into the other rooms was darkened with shadow.

 

He wouldn’t have gone down there, anyway. Not now.

 

The encounter with Chara was at the very least, weird. Flowey knew that Frisk meant to do well when she suggested it - that was why he’d agreed, mainly - but the closure he’d gotten wasn’t what he’d expected at all.

 

Chara had simply told him that she used to care about them. That was unacceptable.

 

Flowey had dreamed about a similar situation for years. He’d made potential situations where he’d lashed out, screamed, hurled curse after curse at her for doing what she did but the novelty wore off and they ended up stale and poisonous. Then there were others where he’d pleaded for her return, for a time where they were still friends, a time when they would hold hands as they walked down the castle halls and laugh like idiots. He was too much of a realist to entertain the prospect for long.

 

So this...this was sort of somewhere in the middle. 

 

This mess inside of him would never be untangled - he’d realised this once he was tunneling away, frustrated and fuelled by some untold outrageous emotion. It would fester and slither and burn scalding and corrosive on wintry days but he would grow to live with it because there was nothing he could do. Why Chara did what she did would be a mystery forever - he thought. Maybe it was better that way.

 

Flowey blinked up at the armchair that loomed over his form. It looked wrong without a warm, homely glow cast over it. 

 

He should stoke the fire. That would help, right?

 

A distant slam of a door startled him and Flowey whirled around in alarm, almost instinctively summoning a pair of blinding bullets by his side, only to come face to face with Frisk.

 

They blinked at each other in silence for a few seconds. Her eyes were red, he noted quickly.

 

_ From tears. _

 

Yeah, that part was important.

 

“So this is where you went,”she said finally.

 

“Yeah,” he shrugged.

 

Frisk sighed and looked away, her fingers subconsciously tapping a random beat on her forearm.

 

“Guess we’re birds of a feather then,” she said wryly. “We both come here when we need to sort out our messes.”

 

She started, as if a thought had just occurred to her and turned an accusing eye on him.

 

“G’s going to die when we leave,” she said flatly. Flowey internally groaned. They just couldn’t catch a break, could they?

 

“Yes, he is.”

 

Frisk pursed her lips in annoyance.

 

“Good to know nothing’s changed. I’m still being left in the dark.”

 

“He told me not to tell you.”

 

She scoffed.

 

“Yeah, you and G have a long history of just doing whatever the other wants you to do-”

 

“Not G. Gaster.”

 

Frisk froze at that, blinking slowly in surprise.

 

“What?”

 

“Gaster knew this would happen. He thought your emotions would take over if we let you know.”

 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Frisk was sullen as she sat herself down but her spiteful tone was seeping out, instead being replaced with tired resignation. “Seems like everybody but me knows how I am.”

 

Flowey said nothing. 

 

“I just want to save him,” she whispered, indignant. “I just want him to live. Is that really so wrong?”

 

“Well, he’s just doing what’s expected.”

 

Frisk’s fingers dug into her skin.

 

“There’s no need to be callous about it, Asriel. He’s my friend.”

 

“Exactly. And he made the decision to die for his friends,” Flowey glanced up at her with just a hint of reproach. “I respect that. Maybe you should too.”

 

Frisk eyes flicked down to the floorboards.

 

“Maybe I want to be selfish this time,” she muttered as she brought her knees to her chest. “He means too much by now. He’s more than just another monster.”

 

“Frisk, he was never anything less,” he said. “C’mon, I’ve known you too long for this. What’s actually wrong?”

 

Her hands fisted in the fabric of her tights.

 

“If I do this, he’ll haunt me until I die.”

 

“You’ve already got ghosts. One more won’t hurt.”

 

Flowey spared a glance. She stared furiously down at the ground as if the mere act of it would squash her obvious anger.

 

“They’re not vengeful,” he added, finally, and her expression softened for a second, if only from surprise. “Just memories. They hang around you like a cape, you know. I’m sure you’ve noticed. It’s weird but they’re all here, even if they aren’t. They’re cheering you on.”

 

Frisk swallowed as her hands fiddled with air as a meagre distraction.

 

“Is that how you feel?” she whispered, soft into the murky air. Flowey sighed.

 

“That’s how you taught me to feel.”

 

She turned to look at him now.

 

“Honestly, Frisk, take your own advice,” he said, exasperated. “Be kind. To them and yourself.”

 

Frisk stared at him for a long time before she finally managed to say “I don’t remember saying that.”

 

“I didn’t really expect you to,” Flowey shrugged. “It was years ago.”

 

“And you still remember it?”

 

“It’s good advice,” he grumbled, just a tad bit sheepish. Frisk said nothing, letting her hair fall across her eyes as she fell back to the floor with a soft  _ whoomp _ .

 

They sat in silence but it was almost comfortable and Flowey felt himself begin to drift. The room was muzzy with the feeling of age, the lines of years past more prevalent with no life to make it thrive. The coat rack was blanketed with a fine layer of dust. The chairs at the small table had skidded out of place during one of the more boisterous clashes and, although they had been returned to their rightful place, the marks were scraped into the floor. And the armchair...

 

If he didn’t focus, he could almost see her sitting in it. That inherently motherly shape, an undoubtedly obscure book, dog eared and half-read, open on her lap. Her reading glasses would be sliding down her nose and he’d take them and put them on the table with care so as not to wake her. And maybe he’d sit on the armrest and pretend he was himself again, the real him with stubby horns and a too-fluffy muzzle. Perhaps a voice would pipe up in the back of his head, chiding him to not think like that - that he was still himself but just a little different - as if repeating what others thought would somehow make it true. But then he’d look back at her and his cynicism would relent for just a second because sitting in her lap with the thud of her steady heartbeat melting away his discomfort bit by bit felt like home.

 

“Are you going to come back?”

 

Flowey blinked and the illusion fell. Frisk was looking at him and with a start, he realised she had said those words. Of course it was. Who else could it have been?

 

“I’ll be there in a bit,” he said eventually. She nodded once, patted him gently and padded out of the room with an odd reluctance about her. He stared after her until she left his line of sight.

 

Frisk would come to terms with it, he was sure. If anybody knew a thing about sacrifice, it was her. She would mourn, softly, in her own inexplicably internalised way. She would cry, many times over. But this would have to happen. 

 

Flowey stared at the grooves in the wooden floor and idly lit the fireplace with a flick of a leaf, his magic sparking the pile of embers back into life.

 

He found that the warmth helped but not enough. The place was just too empty.

\--

 

“I know you’re out there, Gaster,” Frisk declared out into the dark. “Come out. I need to talk.”

 

She stood underneath the hole through which she had entered this world so many years ago.  It was nighttime, judging by the starlight peeking through the gaps of the canopy. The magic of it remained unappreciated though, as Frisk paced in the grass, not out of frustration but expectancy.

 

“Gaster, I swear, if you don’t talk to me right now, I’ll waste the next 2 days on some probably fruitless search for a way to save your stupid son so get out here!” 

 

**“ThAT IS aN EmpTY threAT.”**

 

Frisk exhaled deeply in relief and turned around, deliberately slow. Gaster stood a couple of feet away, his pale face and detached hands the only sign of his presence in the shadow of the cave. His shroud had melted into the darkness around him but the black lapped and curled at the very edges of the light, as if simultaneously leaning towards and away from it. Impossibly, Frisk managed to pull her gaze away from the hypnotising sight.

 

“Gaster, I need to ask you something.”

 

“ **YeS. I knOW.** ”

 

He almost sounded annoyed.

 

“Is it possible for G to live in this situation?” Frisk said quickly. Her hands were bunched by her sides, fingernails digging into the skin of her palm with strain. Gaster gave her a long, uninterpretable look.

 

“ **YeS.** ”

 

In a rush, a wave of hope sped through her and Frisk gaped in surprise. 

 

“Really? How?” she said, her voice stuttering with excitement. 

 

“ **YoU dO NoT LeaVE.** ”

 

Frisk felt her wide smile fall.

 

“...What?”

 

“ **YoU conDEMN monSTeRKinD tO STaY In VirTUAL StASiS.** ” Gaster answered, his tone inexplicably indifferent. “ **YOu dO noT UsE THe TIMe MAchINE.** ”

 

Frisk stared at him for a moment, her teeth worrying at her lip in barely restrained emotion. 

 

“That’s the only way.”

 

“ **YEs.** ”

 

“You-” Frisk began then stopped herself, thinking better of it, and glared at the ground. “You made me think that for a  _ second, _ I had a choice.”

 

“ **yoU Do. hiM oR aLL of monSTErkINd.** ”

 

“You know there’s only one choice there!” She gasped out, fury making her words bitter, and her legs finally gave out from underneath her. Frisk fell to the ground and she placed her head in her hands, shoulders shaking.

 

“He has to die, doesn’t he?” she whispered, her voice thin and brittle.

 

“ **yeS.** ”

 

“Dammit. Dammit!” Frisk’s hands fell to the ground, her fingers tearing into the rocky soil in desperation. “Even like this, I can’t keep myself from killing!”

 

At that, Gaster slipped out of the shadow, his shroud leaving trails of darkness in his wake.

 

“ **ThE vOID Is quICK ANd coLD. HiS deATh WiLL bE PAinLESS** .”

 

“Do you think it will mean anything less?” Frisk’s words were interlaced with bitterness and defeat. She looked, sullen, at the ground as if it would give her the answers she was desperately looking for. “It’s still death.”

 

“ **HumAN** ,” Gaster intoned after a long pause. “ **Do YoU kNOW hoW MAny TimES I hAvE sEEN thiS cyCLE?** ”

 

“No.”

 

“ **87 timES. 87 fAiLurES.** ”

 

At that, Frisk looked up, her eyes wide.

 

“ **ThiS proCESS - iT hELd triaL aFter TriaL and You FeLLed thEM onE bY onE. YoU arE A SteP AwaY FroM thE SuCCEss. AnD yet ThiS FInaL DeciSiON sTumpS yoU.”**

 

“And?” 

 

“ **AnD yoU haVE forgoTTEN soMEthING imPORTanT iF ThiS choiCE Is So PerPLexING.** ”

 

At that, Gaster slid downwards into a looming slouch,  one of his punctured hands reaching into his dark shroud and pulling out a golfball-sized ball of golden light. Frisk eyed it wearily.

 

“What is this?” she said as he placed the ball in her palm with gentle care.

 

“ **A memory where they lived and loved.** ”

 

Frisk’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice, smooth and unaltered and wholly  _ complete _ , piercing through the air but he returned her gaze with his own, silent and pointed. With a hard swallow, she turned her attention back to the little, powerful ball of memory within her grasp. It was smooth to the touch but flickery, blinking light like a faulty light bulb. Invisible waves of life emanated from it to clash with her mind, fizzing and sparking like hopping, sizzling embers at the feeling of a foreign owner. Under the weight of it, Frisk cringed, shrinking back into herself as the flashes of unfamiliar memories, her own but seen from another’s eyes, left bright spots tingling and blinding.

 

**_Stop it,_ ** Chara’s voice ordered, cold and clear like an icicle piercing through the scorch of her mind.  **_You can’t burn here._ **

 

The sparks froze and fell to the floor as ash and dust. The waves of rolling flames retreated from her mind. Chara dragged Frisk up by her wrist and gave her a reprimanding look.

 

**_You don’t need that. You’ve got your own._ **

 

_ They won’t work. _

 

Chara’s brow furrowed with annoyance and she reached forward as if to slap her but Frisk didn’t flinch away, staring her down with worn, tired eyes. Chara returned her gaze, solemn, serious for a moment, before she broke into a wide, bare-toothed grin and flicked Frisk lightly on her forehead.

 

**_You dummy._ **

 

And with that, Chara melted away, fading into the dark, and in her place came a rush of air that billowed and curled around Frisk like a cresting wave. The wind did not pass immediately, wafting up Frisk’s hair into curls, sweeping away fleeting chills, seeping warmth into her body until she felt as light as a breeze, then glided across her shoulders in a swathe, pleasant and comforting like a blanket on a winter’s night and Asriel’s voice echoed in her head -

 

_ They hang around you like a cape. _

 

Space shifted around her, enclosing around her like a soft cocoon, and Frisk sighed, breathless. And then a whisper in her ear that could’ve been her imagination - 

 

_ We’re here. _

 

Frisk pried open her eyes and the wind left her in the flash. Gaster stared at her, silent, contemplative, observing. His memory still lay in her palm. 

 

“You can take back your memory Gaster,” she said, not unkindly, as she handed it back into his waiting palm.  “I get it.”

 

And with the tiniest of smiles, Frisk got to her feet and slipped away back into the dark of the ruins, her hand warm with the answering grip of a thousand invisible friends.

 

\--

G was lying on the couch, his arm slung over his eyes, when Frisk closed the front door behind her. He was at his feet in a second but he didn’t move forward, his eyes wary. At that, she frowned and quickly pulled him into a hug, promptly banishing away his worries. 

 

“I’m going to let you die,” she said simply. He breathed an audible sigh of relief and he hugged her back, finally, fiercely.

 

“Thank you,” he mumbled into her ear and she sighed, pulling away.

 

“I’ll still cry about it, though.”

 

G looked at her, a little pained, then gave a conceding sigh.

 

“I guess I can’t stop you.”

 

He led her back to the couch, hand in hand, and she plonked herself next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder with a small exhale.

 

“I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me,” she murmured.

 

“You would’ve gotten along without me.”

 

“Don’t.”

 

“You would’ve. You will.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

“You’ll have to.”

 

“I hate that.”

 

“You’ll live.”

 

“And you won’t.”

 

“But you’ll deal with it.”

 

Frisk was quiet for a moment before tangling her hand in his.

 

“I’ll have to,” she said, barely a whisper in the empty room. Frisk tilted her head up to face him, her cheek brushing the fine fur of his jacket. “ I’m sorry that I can’t save you.”

 

G laughed but it was a little sad.

 

“It’s okay, kiddo. I know you tried.”

 

\--

 

When Frisk woke up, Asriel was tucked underneath her arm, snoring quietly in the gritty dark. Apparently, it was still nighttime judging by the lack of light outside. Frisk eyed the dirty glass of the window in front of them. Those stars were awfully low. 

 

In painstaking increments, she managed to crawl off of the couch, shivering slightly in the cold. She didn’t bother to take the blanket. It would’ve woken Asriel up and besides, Frisk wanted to stay awake. 

 

Frisk stopped at the front door, waiting.

 

_ Chara? _

 

No response. Just to make sure, she said it again, leaving her words to echo and thrum in the space between them.

 

Nothing.

 

Frisk bit her lip, eyes cast down and slipped through the cracked open door into the cold night air. 

 

Chara wasn’t gone. No way; she would always be lurking somewhere in her subconscious. But Chara had told her about sleeping - her dormant phase, Frisk had offered, likening her to a volcano. Her red eyes had crinkled in laughter at that but Frisk remembered the main message of that conversation. At some point, Chara would go back to sleep. And hopefully, she wouldn’t wake up.

 

Frisk leant her head back against the wood lining of the house, watching her breath steam in the icy breeze, and remembered, just for a second, of being cold.

 

\--

 

The lab door was ajar and light was spilling through, just like she expected. Frisk restrained from giving an annoyed huff. It was in his nature.

 

G was sitting on the tiled floor when she finally coughed, announcing her presence in the doorway.

 

“Hey,” she waved.

 

“Hey.’”

 

“I couldn’t sleep.”

 

G chuckled.

 

“Yeah, me neither.”

 

“So. What are you doing here?” Frisk gestured to the room that thrummed with the power of the time machine. It took up most of the space, wires crisscrossing the floor and a blue glow emanating from the central generating device.

 

“Last minute checkup.”

 

“You’ve checked it a thousand times.”

 

“You’ve been counting?” he grinned and Frisk couldn’t help but return it with one of her own.

 

“I’m rounding up,” Frisk shrugged. After a tiny pause in conversation, she cleared her throat once more and jabbed a thumb at the outside of the lab. “I’m gonna go for a walk. Wanna come?”

 

“Sure,” G said, already on his feet, his jacket slung across his shoulders. “Where are we going?”

 

She shrugged again.

 

“Who knows?”

 

\--

 

“You know, I’m actually really tired,” Frisk mumbled as she kicked her feet in the warm river water. “I just didn’t want to go to sleep.”

 

Beside her, G leaned back on the riverbank grass with a content sigh, his eyes turned up to the star-spotted galaxy glowing ever-bright in the sky.

 

“Tomorrow’s gonna come sooner or later.”

 

Frisk stilled and frowned, sullen, at the rippling water.

 

“I know. Just want to make the most of the time we have left,” Frisk turned to him, her face unreadable. “What if it doesn’t work?”

 

G shrugged and crossed his arms across his chest.

 

“We’ll become one of the failed timelines.”

 

“No sugarcoating, huh?” Frisk answered, wry.

 

“Thought you’d appreciate it more than an optimistic lie.”

 

“Well, you thought right. And so, if it does work…”

 

“You’ll go back home. Do your thing. Live.”

 

She drew her feet out of the water and brought her knees to her neck, her eyes fixated on a point beyond the horizon.

 

“And you’ll die.”

 

“Hey, at least I get to be a martyr. Always wanted to tick that one off the bucket list.”

 

Frisk scoffed.

 

“Martyrdom stinks. You’ll be cursed to wallow in selflessness for eternity.”

 

“Sounds like a sweet gig. I’ll finally get to know how you feel.”

 

At that, Frisk laughed. But, soon enough, she sobered and lay herself down on the grass next to him.

 

“G.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“This sucks.”

 

G turned to face her and reached out a comforting hand to take hers in its grip.

 

“You’ll always have the Sans back home.”

 

“He won’t be you, though.”

 

“Heh, yeah,” G laughed to himself. “Lucky guy.”

 

Frisk tilted her head back to face the sky, the ends of her eyes crinkling from exhaustion.

 

“Tomorrow,” she whispered. “It’s really happening.”

 

“Yeah. Home stretch.”

 

Frisk reached out a hand as if she could touch the stars that glittered, defiant, in the sky above her.

 

“Here comes that finish line.”

 

If G noticed the tinge of bitterness clouding her words, he didn’t mention it.

 

\--   
  


Frisk leant her chin on her hand and peered through the windowpane, squinting under the glare of the bright sunlight. It was fake, conjured up as a side-effect from the universe collisions but it still made the snow outside blindingly white. Frisk puffed out a breath and it steamed on the glass. However, this light apparently didn’t hold any warmth.

 

“Ready?” G strode to her side, his head bowing for a second as he slung his signature jacket around his shoulders.

 

“Yep,” Frisk gestured to the window behind her and grinned. “Looks like good weather for the end of the world.”

 

G laughed and swung open the front door, expectant.

 

“Let’s see this place off.”

 

Flowey was waiting for them outside, planted solidly on the porch railing with a pout.

 

“I still don’t understand why we’re doing this,” he grumbled, moving to perch on Frisk’s shoulder once she was within a comfortable distance. She smiled, moving to pat him fondly before exchanging a glance with G.

 

“Nostalgia,” she answered for both of them. “It’s been a long journey.”

 

After a short, tense silence, G groaned, stretching his arms up over his head and promptly said, “We all deserve to have a bit of fun.”

 

So they did. Starting from Snowdin onwards, they moved through Waterfall all the way into Hotland. The snow in Snowdin was still warm in some places, they found. Frisk and Asriel wasted no time in making a life-size igloo that promptly collapsed on them while they were inside. G managed to dry them off, all the while jokingly threatening them with hypothermia. The waterfall down the path was still frozen solid to their surprise. The three of them took turns sliding the rocky grooves on an old, battered sled they found floating in the garbage dump. And the entire team, through her gleeful shrieking and real laughter, Frisk worked hard to forget what was coming.

 

Last night, she and G had agreed to make the most of their remaining time.

 

“It’s not everyday you get to enjoy the services of a transformed universe,” G had said as they walked back to the house, hand in hand.

 

Frisk had decided to just go with it, fuelled by her own reasons. She had accepted what would inevitably happen at the end of the day but she would never welcome it. The thought of placing one’s value over another had always rubbed her the wrong way but, in this case, she knew it would be impossible to save everyone. Not if she wanted her home back. 

 

G was going to die and Frisk wasn’t going to save him.  

 

So this final, beautiful, mockingly-sunny day would be spent laughing and smiling with him by her side until the very end.

 

“Frisk?”

 

At the sound of his voice, she swivelled around to see G further down the path, Asriel shaking off remaining clumps of snow from his perch of the skeleton’s shoulder. G was watching her, his forehead creased slightly in understanding as he realised their location. 

 

“You need a minute?” he asked, just a tad bit sheepish

 

“No,” Frisk smiled, getting up off the bank on which she had been watching the stars in the sky blink out one after another. “Don’t worry. I’m coming.”

 

“Good. Because we’re going to Hotland next. MTT Resort’s next on the list.”

 

Asriel grinned wide, showing his teeth, and whispered conspiratorially, “I’m gonna trash the place.”

 

\--

 

They end up arriving at the MTT Resort later than expected, having to take a detour after discovering that the original path was blocked with boulders and rubble that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. At the sight of it, the three of them exchanged looks but said nothing, instead unanimously turning around to find another way there. The world was beginning to crumble around them. It was inescapable.

 

After he pried open the sliding doors to the building, G found that the vending machine still inexplicably worked so Asriel and Frisk fished around for spare change in the basin of the fountain. So it was there that they sat and munched on their Glamburgers, content yet somehow tense with expectancy. Surprisingly, it was Asriel to break the silence.

 

“D’you think the fountain still accepts wishes?”

 

G scoffed.

 

“Of course not,” he said simply. After a pause, he added ,”We don’t have any coins.”

 

“There’s plenty down there,” Asriel gestured towards the piles of glittering coins waiting down by the bottom of the bowl.

 

“You can’t double up on wishes, idiot!” G retorted, inordinately miffed. By his side, Frisk broke out into bubbling giggles. 

 

“Never saw you as the type of guy to believe in wishes, G,” she said, grinning. 

 

“Hey, don’t judge. You’re never too old for wishes. And besides - “ G paused to run his fingers through the clear water. “ - everybody needs the extra help.”

 

For a few moments, the three of them merely stewed in those hanging words. Then Frisk was sitting up and moving towards the store. After a few moments of rummaging furiously in the lower drawers behind the cashier, she strode back out with a handful of dusty coins clutched tight in her palm.

 

“Sometimes Burgerpants drops change and just doesn’t bother to pick it back up,” she answered their questioning looks as she plopped herself down on the rim of the fountain once more. “Mettaton makes him do it later anyway but I know he leaves some down there just to spite his boss.”

 

“So…” G said as they watched Frisk spread out the coins before them. “We’ve got around 10 wishes to give.”

 

“I wish for G to admit he’s a wannabe punk,” Asriel said immediately, flinging one rusty coin into the water. The skeleton rolled his eyes.

 

“Be serious.”

 

“I am.”

 

“Fine,” G threw one of his own, smirking as the water it splashed up got onto Asriel. “I wish for you to stop being a party-pooper.”

 

“I wish you two would be mature,” Frisk rolled her eyes, dropping a coin of her own into the water as well.

 

“I wish we had more Glamburgers,” G  said as he leaned back to lie down along the rim of the fountain.

 

“I wish Mettaton had better interior decorating sense,” Asriel piped up.

 

“I wish the speakers still worked. We could’ve played music.”

 

“I wish this skeleton would stop trying to be cool.”

 

“I wish Asriel would admit he’s having fun.”

 

“I wish G would make more realistic wishes.”

 

As the last of their coins sank through the water, both G and Asriel turned to Frisk, expectant.

 

“Go on, kid,” G said. “You’ve got the last one.”

 

Frisk stared at the dirty, thin coin she held flat on her palm. She knew what she wanted to wish for.

 

_ I wish this could last forever. _

 

The coin broke the surface of the water with a satisfying plop and sank to the bottom of the fountain.

 

“I wish we had more wishes.”

 

Asriel groaned, loud and obnoxious.

 

“That’s invalid!”

 

\--

 

They were on their way back at the very edge of Snowdin, taking in the last few drops of universally altered sunlight when it began. 

 

The rumble was familiar, sounding of earthquakes and crumbling earth, and all three of them looked up to see a portion of the world disappear from sight. They didn’t need to say a word before they were scrambling up and trudging back to the lab. It had begun. 

 

Their journey was silent, only punctuated with the crunch of shoes stepping through snow and the low, distant roar of their world disintegrating around them. The wind that was once a pleasant breeze picked up into a whipping gale, whistling around them as they made their way up the arduous hill. When they finally got within seeing-distance of the lab, Frisk was red from exertion and panting slightly. But as G stood up to go the last distance to the small building, he realised Frisk wasn’t following. Instead, she stood at the lip of the hill, looking out over all of the Underground that she could see, her face unreadable.

 

“Gotta go, kid. Time’s almost up.”

Frisk turned to face him, her hair whipping in the winds rushing past, and G could’ve sworn that, at that moment, she could’ve looked straight into his soul. But her eyes flicked down and her hand was clasped tight in his grip and they were marching to the end, together. 

 

\--

 

“Positions, guys!” G announced once they were all bundled into the lab and the door was firmly closed behind them. “We don’t have much time.”

 

Without another word, G moved to the control panel while Frisk, now holding Asriel in the crook of her elbow, went to stand on the big red ‘x’ marked out on the floor. In the background, G furiously flicked switches and the low growl of whirring machinery began to rumble through the room. Unbeknownst to him, Frisk was beginning to breathe faster. She’d thought they had more time. Around them, the very foundations of the lab shook from the force of their deteriorating world.

 

“Ready?” G called out over the rising noise. Frisk nodded, fast like it was instinctual, and he slammed his fist down on the central button on his display. Behind her, the transportation device whizzed into motion, thrumming with life as the power of the echo flowers seeped into the final receptacle. Frisk couldn’t help it - she had to see it - so she whirled around, eyes widening as she took in the awe-inducing sight. 

 

Within the haze of the spinning blades, Frisk caught glimpses of a blinding, blue light beginning to fill the case. Asriel groaned and looked way, the sight apparently too painful to continuously look at but Frisk was enraptured by it, how the light seemed to hypnotically pulsate with the promise of life, how it seemed to stretch reality around it as if the world was beginning to curl in on itself, how it was growing, shining bright, and it reached out to touch her. And with a single touch, now she and Asriel were completely enveloped in a glassy, pale blue veil that seemed to fizz with every move they made.

 

“5 minutes until transportation!” G’s voice pierced through the haze like a knife and Frisk jolted back into reality. Had he just said five minutes? Five minutes until they left? Five minutes to say goodbye? Even though her body was frozen, Frisk’s mind was running into overdrive. 

 

This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t leave! There was too much to say in too little time. Where would she even start?

 

“4 minutes!”

 

Frisk shut her eyes tight and breathed through her nose. Below, she could feel Asriel shifting in her trembling arms. Her feet felt nailed to the floor. Frisk couldn’t help the panic rising in her throat. What could she do? There was never enough time. Why wasn’t she moving? 

 

“3 minutes!”

 

“C’mon, Frisk,” Asriel’s voice was chiding. “Go. If you leave like this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

 

“I can’t!” she hissed, desperate, her breathing laboured. “I can’t do this!”

 

“2 minutes!”

 

“He’s waiting, Frisk,” Asriel said and it was barely a whisper. “He’s right there.”

 

“1 minute!”

 

**_Make him more than just a ghost, Frisk._ **

 

And with the faint, tired sound of Chara’s voice in her ears, Frisk’s resolve shattered. In the span of a second, she whirled around and ran, leaping in to embrace the skeleton whose arms automatically reached out to catch her. Behind her, Asriel was sitting on the tiled floor, as if he had expected her to move from the very start.

 

“And here I thought you weren’t gonna say goodbye,” G chuckled into her hair but his voice was strained and his grip around her was strong.

 

Her fingers bunched up in the folds of his jacket and she was holding on so tight that it almost hurt but it would’ve taken a natural disaster to make him want her to stop. 

 

“Kid?”

 

“I’m gonna miss you so much, G,” she said into the crook of his shoulder, her voice unsteady. “I’m sorry.”

 

He took a deep breath and gently pulled away, tilting his head forward so that they could look at each other, face-to -face.

 

“You do good out there, kid,” he smiled and she nodded furiously, even as she wiped away stray tears. “Make me proud. For them.”

 

“And for you too.”

 

G barely had time to be surprised before Frisk was drawing him close so that their foreheads touched and he could see the slight quiver of her lashes as she blinked.

 

“Especially you,” she murmured in the gentle space between them and she said it with such certainty, with such weight and quiet rumination laden in her words that he couldn’t help but wonder for how long he had been special.

 

Somewhere condemning, a countdown rumbled.

 

_ 40… _

_ 39… _

_ 38… _

 

G couldn’t speak. He was wary of what he would say.

 

“I won’t forget this,” she whispered, her hands cupping his face, her thumbs massaging calm circles into bone. G leant into her touch but, within, he was coiled with tension.

 

_ Please, _ he wanted to say.  _ Don’t say a word more. Don’t make this harder than it should be. _

 

She looked up at him and her eyes shone.

 

_ Please, kid. Be kind. _

 

“I'll remember you,” she said and, for just an instant, her lips pressed against his forehead in a feather of a kiss. The perfect answer was on the tip of his tongue.

 

_ “I know.” _

 

Two words. It was so simple.

 

_ I know. _

 

Two measly words to squeeze out of his chest. Speak, smile, say goodbye. Send her off. Make it alright.

 

G’s mouth felt welded shut.

 

Two words.

 

_ Don't leave. _

 

Two words.

 

_ I'm scared. _

 

Two words.

 

_ You'll forget. _

 

G closed his eyes. When had he changed his mind? Or, had he always felt like this? Was it guilt, at the thought of wanting to live that made him hide it, made him convince himself he was fine? This epiphany - was it even anything remarkable? Because there wasn’t surprise. Not a trace of it. Just cold, sad, angry resignation.

 

He was never good with emotions.

 

_ I don't want to die. _

 

There was the fear, now - there it was. It tugged at him, beckoning, and he could feel himself sinking into it, like black tar swallowing him up. He didn’t want to die. Not now. Not with this.

 

Before, he’d always had the solace of being ‘reborn’, of having the timeline reset and being right where he was. But this time, it would be forever. This version of him, the one that Frisk had thought to be special - gone. His memories - gone. Everything that this had been - gone. The original Sans, he thought, was one lucky bastard.

 

He wouldn’t remember this - there wasn’t a sliver of a chance.

 

The desperation was cloying. He could feel it now, his thoughts warping with it, testing him, fantasizing. Frisk could save him. Frisk could do anything! There was time, wasn’t there? She was a human of miracles - powerful, comforting miracles - and he knew, if he told her right now, something could happen. An epiphany or a striking cure or something - just, something, that was all they needed - and he could  _ live _ , he could stay like this and know it had happened and still remember the feeling of her hands held tight in his. Within the span of a second, his thoughts burst out as a storm. These jumbled words mixed and matched to his heartbeat and he could feel them, the power behind them like he knew just saying them would let him live.

 

He held her there, his fingers tickled by her short, tufted hair, and her breath ghosted over him. G could feel her warmth. She could help. He had hope.

 

“Frisk -” he began.

 

_ Save me. _

 

G’s eyes snapped open as he lost his balance, staggering forward a few steps into the open space where Frisk had just stood, moments ago. The clock had stopped ticking.

 

He should've just told her that he knew.

 

\--

 

Frisk was hurtling away through a tunnel of flashing lights that made her tears glow blue and pink and gold.

 

He hadn’t finished speaking before she left. She had seen his eyes, the way they had flickered with uncertainty and the feeling of something arriving between them, a presence of an unlocked puzzle and she had held her breath in anticipation but - 

 

She rubbed her thumb over the beds of her fingertips. They were still warm.

 

Frisk clenched her teeth and blinked up at the furious, blinding light they were zooming towards. A high keening tunnelled into her ear drums.

 

There would be time for tears later. But now…

 

Frisk whirled around to see Asriel. He had grown from the first time she’d seen him as he truly was. His white fur shone with the light of a thousand exploding stars, his horns curved round and over his head. Golden robes whipped and tangled in the blustering gales rushing past. Beneath the unrelenting pressure, his eyes were narrowed and his teeth were gritted but it didn’t take long for him to see her.

 

For a second, surprise swam over his face then he smiled a bare-toothed grin and opened his arms wide for an embrace. Frisk wiped away her tears and brought him close as an ear-splitting crack of thunder shuddered through the air. It was only when Frisk wrapped her arms around him that she realised her chains had disappeared.

 

Frisk shut her eyes and relaxed into the softness of his fur.

 

They were going home.

 

\--

 

The moment they left the world started to collapse.

 

G eyed the black void seeping over the walls of his lab and lit one last cigarette.

 

_ Remember _ , he ordered himself and he thought of love. _ Focus. _

 

_ ‘For them. And for you too.’ _

 

His hands were trembling. The void had reached him. It lapped at his toes like sea at a bay then spread fast - too fast, _ way  _ too fast dammit - from his feet upwards and immediately, the fear had him in a chokehold.

 

He couldn't feel a thing. Wherever the void touched, there was nothing but oblivion. He was going to die. There would be no miracle, this time.

 

Fear blurred his control. Golden flames sparked all over his body, in his eye, his rib cage, the holes in his palms became scorching rings of fire.

 

The void was closing in.

 

He remembered wanting to die calm. But now, seeing his body wracked with fear as golden flames spurted from his body like gushing blood - he knew that’d never been an option.

 

It was up to his chest now. A hangman's noose. Trapdoor would fold any minute now.

 

A stone was lodged in his throat and it splintered and burrowed deep into his lungs. This couldn’t have lasted. There had never been any hope. This sweeping, tumultuous black - even Frisk couldn’t have saved him from this. It was an enormous thing, like the essence of gravity or the presence of dark matter - this was his world. 

 

And he was dying for it.

 

It rose to his neck. G stopped shaking. His wide eyes flickered.

 

He’d wanted to see it through. He'd wanted to see Papyrus again. He had wanted to live. All too late.

 

_ I want to remember this _ , he whispered, tiny and pathetic and furious in a fuzzy corner of his head.  _ Don’t take this from me. _

 

The void inched closer, seeping over the edge of his jaw and into the cracks of his skull.

 

_ Don’t you dare! _

 

Suddenly, a jolt shuddered through his body and G let out a shattering gasp. Somehow his body had returned - he could feel the line of his ribs, his spine, his legs pressing through the void like it was a cast and it was  _ excruciating _ but the pain meant he was still alive so he gulped down air like he was drowning but then - he noticed the blood. It seeped from his mouth like tar, dripping into the blanket of void like a leaky faucet and he remembered, struck cold, of the only other time he had burned black. Unbidden, G’s head shot up as if it were dragged by claws.

 

_ Why are you-,  _ he scrabbled for a foothold in sense.

 

**_YoU cALLed foR Me._ **

 

G turned rigid like stone. A pale, disembodied hand caressed his unmoving cheek and placed itself over his only eye which burned an unsteady flame. G shook, violently, silently, as his mouth gradually began to be flooded with thick, black blood.

 

**_YoU diD WeLL._ **

 

The hand wrenched back violently and with it came the sound of a heart snapping. The skeleton lolled forward, limp and lifeless. His flame no longer burned.

 

When the void swallowed up his empty shell, G was long gone.

\--

 

Frisk blinked open her eyes blearily, feeling as if she had just been hit by a train. Where was she? Had the time machine worked? Her mind still seemed to be catching up with her and her swimming vision was accompanied by the faint sense of seasickness. Frisk felt lost.

 

It was the feeling of snowflakes on her skin that woke her up.

 

They were cold. Just like they were supposed to be.

 

“So what do you think?”

 

Frisk’s eyes shot to the monster that stood before her, all grey fur and a striped scarf wound tight around his neck. He held out a pan of steaming apple pie to her, his dark eyes glittering expectantly.

 

“I heard you like pie. Do you want to try some?” he said cheerily and Frisk was about to start crying.

 

“Yes!” she gasped out, her own eyes burning with the promise of tears. “Yes, yes, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

 

“Oh dear!” the monster said as he put his pie pan away and began to wring his soft paws together in worry. “Are you alright? I think I’ve upset you.”

 

Frisk fell to her knees with a sob and the knife that she had been holding behind her back fell into the deep snow with a resounding thump.

 

\--

 

Floating somewhere impossible, Gaster held a tiny golfball-sized flame that quivered, whipping in the nonexistent breeze. He sat in its small halo of light in silence before he placed it within the shapeless mass of his body and disappeared.

 

\--

 

She was home. 

 

Frisk couldn’t stop staring. It was all so familiar. The light from Grillby’s bar, the rings of smoke leaving the chimneys of nearby igloo houses, the Christmas tree where a brown bear was carefully stacking presents - she had missed it all so much. Around her, the low hubbub of life was loud and welcoming, permeating her skin and filling her with a pleasant, glowing feeling that took root. They were alive. They were back!

 

Frisk stopped a child that was running past and hugged her, hard. At their bewildered looks, she merely shook her head and gave a shaky smile. 

 

“Hey, kiddo.”

 

In an instant, her skin that was once warm with the feeling of relief turned to ice. Their voices were just too similar. Frisk swivelled around, deliberately slow.

 

“Hello, Sans.”

 

It was Sans. There was no mistaking it. There were the fluffy slippers, the blue hoodie, that stout, powerful figure. And that grin, those eyes - it wasn’t G. 

 

_ He’s not G _ , Frisk had to keep reminding herself.  _ Stop seeing G _ .

 

“You alright there, kid?” he said and Frisk could see the suspicion in his eyes. That’s right - G had told her - Gaster had written in his diary that something would happen. Frisk gave him her brightest smile. 

 

“Yeah. Just grateful to be here is all.”

 

Well, she wasn’t lying.

 

Frisk flicked her gaze to the trees nearby. She couldn’t look at Sans for too long. It was all too wrong, somehow. 

 

_ He’s not G. _

 

Her smile had slid off of her face. She knew he was staring.

 

“Hey kiddo-”

 

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” she said and she internally cringed at how forced her chipper tone was. Sans shrugged and gestured for her to go, his grin plastic and fake on his face. “I’ll see you around, Sans.”

 

He was going to follow her. There was no doubt about it. 

 

Frisk tramped down the path and ran her hands through her long, smooth hair, her wrists painfully light.

 

\--

 

Gaster slouched over a distant corner, his ghostly hands busy in patting down dirt. 

 

Through the cracks of the closely-packed earth, a weak light shone through.

  
  
  


Whispers reached him, some admiring, others mocking and scornful. Gaster paid them no heed.

 

\--

 

It had been automatic, where her legs had taken her, as her mind had been jumbled and full to the brim with thoughts and overwhelming emotions. Frisk didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

 

The echo flower field spanned out before her, thrumming with low, tingling whispers that felt like old friends welcoming her home. Frisk breathed out a sigh of relief and stepped into their embrace. There were things she had to do.

 

Later, she and Asriel would return to her family and tell them about everything but G. Papyrus and Undyne would cry. Alphys would be thoughtful. Asgore and Toriel would hug her close and loving. Sans would look at her differently.

 

Later, with the help of Asriel, they would break the barrier and step out onto the surface with Frisk as their very own ambassador and she would fight for their place in the world because there was nothing she wouldn't do for those who she loved.

 

Later, in hard times, Frisk would learn to tell herself why.

 

_ For them, _ she would say.  _ And for him as well. _

 

Later, Frisk would wake up with the ghost of his voice in her ears.

 

Later, she would look at leather jackets with fur linings in clothes stores but never purchase one of her own.

 

Later, Frisk would learn that gold meant different things.

 

And much,  _ much _ later, Frisk would heal.

 

But later wasn't for a long time so she laid herself down on the pebble strewn path and watched the cavern ceiling glitter.

 

If she shut her eyes, she could almost pretend he was there. He’d be sitting up beside her, his arm rested on the crook of his knee, and he’d smile as he took in their surroundings. ‘ _ We made it _ ’ his eyes would say and his hand would be millimeters away from her own. A lit cigarette would dangle in his grip.

 

Frisk took a deep breath and pretended she tasted smoke.

 

The time machine had worked. She was home.

  
  


_ You do good out there, kid. _

  
  
  
  


_ Make me proud. _

 

Frisk let out a shuddering, choked sob of a breath and hoped that the stars above the surface shone bright. 

 

\--

 

Hidden far, far away, a golden flower with pointed petals like a star whispered smokey echoes into the dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for sticking around and supporting me on this huge journey of ours. You really have no idea how much your feedback meant to me. I hope you all enjoyed reading this fic and that you might stick around to see some of my later stuff.
> 
> Sidenote: I recently found a song that I thought basically embodies all that I wanted this story to be. Here's the link if you want to hear it for yourself:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6BBksAK0f0g
> 
> To reach me:   
> Tumblr: lindigo

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and concrit are very welcome!


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